Seven Stars Set in a Silver Sea
by Daughter of Elessar
Summary: Collaboration of DofE and Vane Alasse. The correspondence between Arwing, daughter of Aragorn, and Silwen, daughter of Faramir. Their friend, Huinlas, and his secret burden are changing thier lives...
1. A Letter to the Princess of Gondor

"Seven Stars Set in a Silver Sea"  
  
Herein is the told the story of Arwing, daughter of Aragorn and Arwen, and her friend, Silwen, daughter of Faramir and Éowyn. The first letter opens twenty-seven years after the destruction of the One Ring and the return of the king.  
  
Author's note: We have done our best to keep accurate all Tolkien's characters mentioned in The Lord of the Rings, and in our invention of new characters we have tried to remain true to his style. Arwing, though her character was imagined for this story, could have been one of the daughters mentioned in the appendix to The Return of the King. Silwen's character is a little more arbitrary, being invented entirely for the progression of this story.  
  
We have had a lot of fun putting these letters together and hope you enjoy them.  
  
We would love feedback (i.e. positive comments or constructive criticism)!  
  
~*Vané Alasse and Daughter of Elessar*~  
  
PS Apologies if we've totally messed up the Elvish! We tried...  
  
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A LETTER TO THE PRINCESS OF GONDOR  
  
My dear Arwing,  
  
  
  
How are you? How fares life in the White City? All in Ithilien goes well; the flowers are in blossom and Father is home for a while. You know how he has been so busy these past years with the conclusions of wars, as has your father.  
  
You write much less now than you used to. Are you ill? Perhaps you are absent from the City? In that case, why do I bother to write? Well, dear, I have nothing better to do and, besides, I long for your company.  
  
How is your brother? Does he continue to grow more like his father every day? I so long to visit you, but I do not see this happening any time in the near future. Mother has been trying to arrange a trip to Rohan. Perhaps the next time I write I shall be far away in a strange country, though this will not bring me any closer to you or Minas Tirith.   
  
I have never set foot in either land of my ancestry, but am so at home and content here in the forest and woods. I love the stillness and the lushness of such a place. And the elves! How I love the elves. Father laughingly complains that Ithilien is not what it once was now that the elves have settled here. He says the woods are alive now, while before they were caught in a sleepy stillness. I cannot imagine it otherwise than it is now. The elves seem to belong here, as do the soft shadows naturally gracing the floor beneath the boughs of the aged trees.  
  
  
  
Speaking of elves, I long to see the sea! The elves here are constantly chatting and singing of its glories, and I feel I cannot wait much longer to see it. Lord Greenleaf is especially anxious to leave, although if you understand elves, and since your mother is one you should, anxiousness in an elf can last for several thousand years of song and tale with no carrying out of anything. So, as much as I am fond of Lord Greenleaf and his tales, I fear I have not much hope of him ever taking me to see the white gulls and silver shores.  
  
Boromir is getting so tall of late. As you know, he is two years younger than I am, being seventeen, but already he has far surpassed me in stature. Father says he has been fittingly named and that the semblance of his sleeping brother lives again in his son.  
  
  
  
How hard it must have been for Father to loose his brother in the War. Mother, too, suffers great lose from the battles. I often see them walk together under the moon-lit trees and hear them whisper of days long gone by. When they return Father's face is always graver and shivering tears trace Mother's face. But together they are strong and by morning, after the calmness of the cool night, they are quite themselves again. (You may think I have been eavesdropping, but there is almost no such thing as regular sleep here while the elves are present. Their peace and their voices calm us and the need for much sleep is not present as you talk of its necessity in the City.)  
  
  
  
Oh dear, I must end once again. Little Théodwyn is calling me...  
  
Mellonlín,  
  
~Silwen 


	2. Cemenril

MY DEAREST SILWEN  
  
Dear Silwen,  
  
  
  
Yes, I have been away from the city for a time. I do apologize for not being a faithful correspondent lately. I had gone to Rohan; it is quite a lovely country. I was there because Mother decided I could and should have my own horse. I found one. He is a wonderful, rich earth color. When I shine his coat it flashes like a red sunset on snow capped mountains, for he has three white stockings and a star upon his forehead. His gate is smooth and he loves to hear me sing. I call him Cemenril, which I think is very fitting. Would you agree?  
  
I have returned home now. Minas Tirith is a fine city, yet I always look above the walls as the borderless land beckons me. I long to venture out into the openness of the world.  
  
  
  
I am glad to hear that your horse is feeling better; I very much dislike it when animals are not feeling well. I love songs, do you remember the words Legolas sang? I should love to hear many elves sing together, by what you say I am certain it would be beautiful indeed.  
  
  
  
Mother made me a cape for my twenty-first year. It is a soft, blue-grey color. I love wearing it, for I blend in with the rocks of the city. Mother helped me to obtain more of the same fabric and I have made a blanket for Cemenril. We are allowed to go outside the city to ride at twilight and into early night. He loves to gallop with much speed, and I am like-minded. My cape trails behind me like wings, and I wish the short minutes of freedom could last forever.  
  
  
  
I can understand why your Father still grieves, for we pass his brother's horn on a table every day. It is cloven in two; how my heart is saddened to think of its bearer's fate.  
  
  
  
Do you not find joy in the stars? I find that there is no greater thing in all the earth. This is, though, merely my humble opinion, friend.  
  
  
  
My the time has gone by much to quickly. I shall write again as soon as I am able.  
  
  
  
Mellonlín,  
  
Arwing 


	3. Riding to Rohan

DEAR LADY ARWING OF GONDOR  
  
Dear Arwing,  
  
Another day, another letter.  
  
I told you next time I would be writing from Rohan, and I was right! Well, almost... We are not quite to Rohan yet, having only set out yesterday and traveling very slowly.  
  
Huinlas is staying behind with his father, of course. I knew he would, but I am still sad. I do enjoy his company; he is so pleasant to be around. You would like him very much. He helped me pack my horse for the trip, which was no simple task considering Hwesta's temperament. She, of course, was rude and pushy, but the elf was helpful and calmed her somewhat.  
  
Father is not traveling with us, but stayed home. He said he had business to look into and take care of while we are away. I can't imagine what he means, and hope it does not include him marching to another war. I'm sure you understand this, Arwing.  
  
Théodwyn rides with me on Hwesta since she is too small to be trusted alone on a horse. Mother says in two years, when she is five, she may have her own pony, but Father doesn't seem to be so compliant to this proposition. Mother, being one of the Eorlingas, was practically raised on horseback and sees nothing wrong with giving her youngest daughter riding lessons even now.  
  
Today we will join the Great West Road leading to Rohan and eventually to Edoras. Mother says it skirts the northern bank of the Ered Nimras, and that if we look carefully we will see the beacons on the mountain tops. Boromir and Barahir have been bemoaning that the beacons will not be lit, for they say from Father's tales it is quite a sight to see. I, however, though I like fascinating scenery, am thankful they will not be lit, for as you know a lit beacon means war. For my brothers war means excitement and valour, for me it means pain and grief and being forced to face extremes of emotion and endurance that otherwise need not be experienced.  
  
I am sorry this letter is shorter than in previous times, but I must end now because Mother wants to be moving again. The horses are restless.  
  
Mellonlín,  
  
Silwen of Ithilien 


	4. Watching the Stars

DEAREST SILWEN  
  
Dear Silwen,  
  
  
  
It sounds as if Huinlas fancies you. How thoughtful of him to help you pack, I am sure you find him kind. Do you know his age? Oh dear, I am getting off the topic...  
  
  
  
Cemenril is such a fine horse. Some say in his veins flows the blood of the great horse Shadowfax.   
  
I hope that you are faring well. How are your siblings?  
  
  
  
My little brother and I just finished making some paper, do you like it? He begged me to write something as soon as I could to you, so you might receive this while you are still in Rohan. Father gave me some new ink and pens to write my letters before he left, so now I shall be able to personalize my letters more than I could before.  
  
  
  
I hope that you are doing well in Rohan and that you are not ill. Dear little Eldarion is just healed of a cold. While he was sick he was somewhat bothersome, especially when he wanted me to wait on him all the time. Last night he asked me to take him riding again, but I had to say no. It was much past his bed time, and we were only up so late for Mother Arwen was showing us the patterns of the stars.  
  
  
  
I have never seen the beacons lit and I hope never to see them so. How are your relatives? Have you seen the great Hall? Are there many horses? I have never been the city of Edoras, only to a farm owned by the man who sold me Cemenril. I wished greatly to see the Great Hall on the hill, but time did not permit it.  
  
  
  
Father Elessar will be leaving tomorrow. He was gone only for three weeks the last time, but he said this is a business trip and he will be gone longer. It saddens Mother's heart, for he did not say where he will be traveling. I hope he shall not go into the Black Land, as he has in the past and may again in the future. Perhaps he is headed to see his friends in the northern country.  
  
  
  
Eldarion is to have his fifth year soon, and he so wants Father to be here for his special day. Pray that dear Father Elessar will not be gone more than a month this time on his journey.  
  
  
  
Mellonlín,  
  
Arwing of the White Tree 


	5. To Arwing of the White Tree

ARWING OF THE WHITE TREE  
  
Mae Govannen  
  
  
  
My dear Arwing! I have received your letter today. You will never believe how I happened to be given it, for as you have heard I am staying in Rohan and your letter was addressed to Ithilien. How did I become so lucky as to receive it here, while away? It seems I have friends in high places.  
  
  
  
Father and has come from Ithilien and with him Lord Greenleaf. His daughter, Luinil, and her brother also came along. It was the latter who brought the letter. Huinlas said he thought I might want to read it, but I know better than that. He is anxious to hear of you and to know how you fare. So dear, of course I let him read the letter. You do not mind, do you? I thought not. I have asked him to send you his own letter and perhaps he may...but you know elves... it may be some time before you hear from him.   
  
  
  
It does seem strange that Father should come all the way here, but he said he has business to attend to in the north. I hear talk of traveling to visit the Pheriannath in their homeland. Huinlas has been sitting in on many of the meetings; perhaps he desires to travel north as well.  
  
  
  
The real strange thing is that Lord Greenleaf should travel all this way. He is so attached to Ithilien by now and always talks of the Sea. I cannot imagine why he has taken the trouble to come so far out of his way. But he is an elf, so who knows and who has the courage to ask?  
  
  
  
Barahir is quite taken with this land. He says he feels stifled at home under all the confining trees. Here the land opens broad and wide. The tall Ered Nimras are but a backdrop to this far reaching emnet. Barahir, at twenty-three, has the freedom to travel far and freely on his horse, and he often does so. He has been gone now for two days with Elfwine to see the countryside. I don't know why he need ride around to see the country for everything is clearly visible from Edoras. I have never seen such an expanse of land before, and seriously it makes me shudder. Barahir is more like Mother and I am more like Father, I suppose...  
  
  
  
Oh, goodness! Here comes my big brother now, and such a fuss they are making! I must close...but no fear, I will write again soon.  
  
  
  
~Silwen 


	6. Tinwe's Kittens

TINWE'S KITTENS  
  
Dear Silwen,  
  
Truthfully. Huinlas brought you my letter? I think he desires to spend more time with you, for I believe he fancies you. I can see no reason for him to take you the letter otherwise.  
  
You let Huinlas read my letter? No, I suppose I do not mind. I do not think I speak of things which would be wrong for him to read, though I would not like him to read this letter. How do you know he is anxious to hear of me? Does he ask? You asked him to send me a letter himself? I suppose it would be nice to receive a letter from a friend of a friend.  
  
I lament for you on behalf of your father's upcoming absence. I so dislike it when my own father leaves home. I hope your father will not be gone long, and your family may soon be reunited. Shall you be sad if Huinlas travels north as well?  
  
On your way home to Ithilien please stop by the White City. I should like to see you in person. It is possible we would be able to ride outside the city together, passing through the seven gates on horseback.  
  
Young Eldarion fears Father will not be home for his birthday, and he talks nothing but about it. His wishes are to have Father home and to see a real elf. Though we have told him over and over that mother is a real elf, he is yet young and understands little of the ways of elves. It is still not clear to him why Mother can get ill even though she is elf kind.  
  
I am making young Eldarion a cape like mine for him to wear. It is proving difficult for me to keep it hidden from him, for he is such an investigative child. Mother said Father wishes to give him a horse. She even said she received a letter from Father (she receives many letters from him) in which he requested the Lord Legolas go to Rohan to choose a horse for Eldarion. Mother said Lord Greenleaf is to deliver the horse to young Eldarion himself. Perhaps I shall see Huinlas, if he comes along.  
  
Mother and I are planning to give Eldarion his own dog for his fifth year. I have gone to the kennels often recently to pick a pup out for him. Alas, the task is hard, for there are so many adorable creatures.  
  
My darling feline, Tinwë just had a litter of gorgeous kittens. If you come through the city on your way home I must show them to you, for Tinwë is such a proud mother.  
  
I must end, the letter carrier is here, and I have asked him to take this letter to you in Edoras. I hope you receive it while you are still there.  
  
Mellonlín,  
  
Arwing of the White Tree  
  
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[REVIEWS GREATLY DESIRED] 


	7. Edoras to Minas Tirith

EDORAS TO MINAS TIRITH  
  
Dear Arwing,  
  
  
  
Oh my dear, such news! Your father been here. He left just this morning with Lord Greenleaf and my father. They have gone north to visit the Halflings and make certain the realm of Arnor is secure.   
  
  
  
But here is the best part: Huinlas, Boromir and I are to follow and try to catch up with them before they reach the Isen. Already the elf and my brother have been packing their things and preparing their horses for the journey.  
  
  
  
Later  
  
  
  
Dearest! I have just received a letter from you! How good it is to hear from you again. Time seems to linger here, on and on and on... Not as it does in Ithilien where day blurs into night and wakes into day again, each better than the last, each made perfectly for peace and comfort. I have been in the Golden Hall three weeks now. Ah...you asked for a description and you know how I adore description so I shall begin:  
  
  
  
The Golden Hall is just that, golden. It is lovely, far lovelier than I had imagined it to be. I am sharing a room with Théodwyn, and our window looks out over the breezy plains. The wind is always blowing here. Forever and again we hear it moaning, moaning through the grasses.  
  
  
  
Mother looks better than I have seen her for a long time. Not that she was ill before, but she is "at home" now and feels refreshed. She spends much time with her brother, my uncle Éomer King. I have seen her happy before, but never so joyful as with her brother. They are so close, in friendship and in character. It is amusing just to sit and watch them talk and laugh together.  
  
  
  
The wind and direct sunlight have been bothering my eyes. They are sore and ache much of the day time. At night there is relief from the light, but always blows the wind.  
  
  
  
At night Huinlas stands outside under the stars and I hear his voice carried on the wind all around the Hall. Not loudly, not obtrusively, but not naturally either. This land does not seem right for elven music, somehow. His voice is mellow and sweet and the melody he sings is enchanting. It seems as though sometimes he is talking to the very stars above his head. And you know dear, it may be that he is.  
  
  
  
Dear Arwing, I told you I did not know for sure Huinlas admires you, I merely guess. I am one for guessing and inquisitiveness, you know. He does not admire me the way he admires you. I am merely his friend, though I would not say there is anything "mere" about it (if you take my meaning). There is something special about befriending an elf.  
  
  
  
I have spent much time these last few weeks with my aunt, Lothiriel. She is so beautiful. Her hair is a whiter gold than I am used to, and it glimmers almost red in the sunlight. She has but one child, Elfwine, and he is a friend to Barahir. Aunt Lothiriel and Lord Greenleaf had a real time of it talking about the Sea before he left. She was born and raised by the seashore and longs still to see the waves again.  
  
  
  
I have been having the time of my life dressing myself in Mother's old clothes. It seems Uncle Éomer has saved a chest of them just because. They are richly embroidered and all trail on the ground behind me. There is something special about dressing as a princess of Rohan. Though I do not consider myself to be of the Rohirrim, but of Gondor, I do delight in many of the pastimes here... seeing how it is in my blood.  
  
  
  
Ah well, I must close much sooner than I should like. I have much to tell you, but it will have to wait until later.  
  
  
  
Mellonlín,  
  
Silwen  
  
  
  
  
  
PS Huinlas sends his greeting ("Mae govannen, Lady of the Tree!") and this short poem:  
  
  
  
Calling, calling ever sing the gulls,  
  
Across a distant shore  
  
Where white sand shines like gems  
  
Where breezes fall like raindrops  
  
Where mist encloses all who dare to step  
  
On the long awaited shore.  
  
  
  
PPS Write next time to Bree, where we hear they will pick up the mail. It may be some time before I am able to write again.  
  
PPPS Scratch writing to Bree. Huinlas says that is too far away. He says he has some distant cousin living in Eregion who will be able to pick up the mail.  
  
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[REVIEWS GREATLY DESIRED] 


	8. Letter From Arwing

Letter From Arwing  
  
Dear Silwen,  
  
You have seen my father? Did he speak of me? They are headed to the north into Arnor? It is wonderful to hear such news, for Mother Arwen has not heard from him for a long time.  
  
The Golden Hall sounds wonderful, I should like to see it some time soon. Though I am not one much to like the wind.  
  
Can you see Fangorn Forest from where you are? I have heard that it is very large and of hard woods; much like Ithilien, only older.  
  
You are such a dreamy talker Silwen! I suppose I do desire to meet Huinlas. I wish I, too, could have an elven friend; you are so fortunate.  
  
Eldarion is five now, and Father did not come as we had all hoped that he would. Lord Greenleaf did not bring his horse either. Instead, a horse merchant of Rohan brought many horses from which we were to choose one. Eldarion wanted a white horse, but there were none. I picked out a good solid horse for him, it barely reaches 15 hands. She is a dappled grey color, and very calm yet prancey. He likes her, and now I am teaching him to ride. I lead him out of the city, me on Cemenril, and Eldarion on his horse. He wanted to call her Undomiel, after mother, but she said to call her Tindomiel instead. The meaning is the same.  
  
Mother is helping to expand my poor knowledge of Quenya and Sindarin, so here I am studying away. In truth it is coming very easy to me. Mother expects fluency, though, so I study and recite until late at night. Some days this causes my evening ride to be delayed.  
  
Tell Huinlas that I thank him for the greeting, and the poem. I enjoyed it very much. Each night I recite it to myself. It is rare indeed when I am able to sleep, though, for my mind floods with songs. I refrain from singing aloud, however, because I would not like to disturb the rest and sleep of others.  
  
I must end now, for I should be studying.  
  
How I long to go for my ride.  
  
Namárië  
  
Arwing  
  
[REVIEWS GREATLY DESIRED] 


	9. From the river Isen to Gondor

FROM RIVER ISEN TO GONDOR My dear Arwing,  
  
So I write again sooner than I expected.  
  
We have been on the road but one day now, and are staying the night at the river Isen. We have not caught up with the King and my father, however we did pass Lord Greenleaf. He had gone with them a ways and turned back again for Edoras, for he says he has business in Minas Tirith and must not be late. I can only guess he means to get a horse for young Eldarion, sweet boy. (Perhaps he has not heard you have already selected one for the young prince?) He will get the best of the best for there is none now alive like Legolas of Ithilien who can tell a perfect horse from a herd. Except, perhaps, his son. While on that thought, I did worry Huinlas would return with his father. However he did not, and is even now helping Boromir to start a campfire.  
  
It is rough traveling. I have the added burden of heavy, hot skirts; a trouble and handicap neither Boromir nor Huinlas understand or sympathize with. I'm sure you understand this.  
  
Oh, my dear, we get to carry weapons! Such luck! I feel so dangerous now. There is something terribly handsome about the two gentlemen I travel with being all girded up as if for war. Huinlas has, after his family's custom, but a light bow and arrows, and a family heirloom, a long silver-white knife. Boromir is girt with a long sword of Gondor and Gondorian mail, though no armor for we are optimistic enough to hope we will not really have need to fight. Boromir also has a shield. And what of myself? I have sword of the Rohirrim with a shorter blade, more fitting for a woman. It has horses on the hilt and the grip is of firm, soft leather. I love the way it sounds when being pulled from the sheath. Huinlas and Boromir have been instructing me in the art of sword play, and I enjoy it very much. It seems the gentlemen do not care to catch up with the adults, and so will do anything as an excuss to lag behind. I fear we will be in trouble for this in the end.  
  
Huinlas is singing again; the sun is setting, and a round moon is rising over the edge of Fangorn forest. As I have said before, I cannot bear to do anything productive while he sings, especially at the twilight.  
  
So farewell for now, my friend. I eagerly await your letters in Eregion, which Huinlas says we shall come to in a matter of four or five days. Considering the sluggishness of our travel so far, I do not expect to reach it for nearly a week.  
  
Until then, mellon-nin! ~Silwen  
  
PS Another poem from Huinlas. (He said this one isn't as good as the last, but wanted to send it anyway. I wouldn't know the difference. He also said it needs no reply, but would like to know if you enjoyed it.)  
  
Have you seen the moon rise over distant hills Or heard the forlorn wind wail with hidden ills? Do you know the calling of the Twilight grey Or feel the gentle peace of sunlit Day? What is your fate, oh Lady of the Tree? Tell, where lies your future? Free?  
  
PPS I'm sending this with a wandering dwarf. I hope it makes it to you.  
  
[REVIEWS GREATLY DESIRED] 


	10. In the House of Healing

Note from Vané Alasse: CONGRATULATIONS! You've reached letter ten! I didn't write this one, but anyway... Seriously, this story does get much better as it progresses. So keep reading (and please review)! The best parts are still to come! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~  
  
IN THE HOUSE OF HEALING My Dear Silwen,  
  
How do you fare since my last letter? I am hoping this finds you in good health. I unfortunately can not say life is going so well for me. Yesterday, while out on our afternoon ride my dear horse, Cemenril, was kicked by Eldarion's feisty horse, and stumbled into some rocks. We were riding farther than we usually ride because Eldarion desired to do so. Cemenril fell and I was tossed from him, landing roughly on the rocks. Thankfully Cemenril was not injured. Eldarion had a good scare watching me fly through the air, and also a good laugh. I, however, did not fare so well. I was able to walk home, but with great difficulty. I had a badly cut and sprained ankle. The past three weeks have been spent in the House of Healing. This is a great inconvenience, for I am unable to ride Cemenril and feel terribly useless. Eldarion has had to ask mother to take him riding, which is good for him and amusing for her. I suppose it is not such a bad time, though I do desire to have my freedom back.  
  
I have not heard from you for some time. I wonder where you are by now. I will make several copies of this letter and send them to all the places I imagine you could be staying. I worry for your safety while on your journey. I know, I worry too much. But you are my dearest friend, so I have right to worry.  
  
How is Huinlas? Is he still with you? Have you heard of my father? I know that I do ask many questions, but what else am I supposed to do? I am practically locked here in the House of Healing, and have neither ability nor permission to leave. It is stifling here; I am not even allowed to walk to the porch.  
  
Mother is contemplating selling that absurd horse of Eldarion's, for she fears that Tindomiel will do nothing now but spook other horses. Poor little Eldarion, he comes here every day now and cries on my lap, for he loves his horse so dearly. I can do nothing for him, for I cannot stand at all, much less leave the room. I do not know what I can do for him, for he hopes Father will come home and be able to persuade Mother not to sell Tindomiel.  
  
You are a strange girl to think Huinlas would return with his father. I think that he does admire you; probably this is why he decided to stay. I imagine he is very helpful; elves know much of nature and are good guides.  
  
How I wish to carry weapons! When I had my seventeenth year Father Elessar gave a sword which used to belong to him. He had carried before he received Andruil. I call it Angiel, Iron Star. Silwen, please note the 'g' is hard like in "angle."  
  
I must end, for I want this to get to you while you are in Eregion. So here I end.  
  
Namárië Arwing  
  
PS You may tell Huinlas I greatly enjoyed his latest poem.  
  
[PLEASE REVIEW! THANKS!] 


	11. Day is Fading

DAY IS FADING  
  
My dear Arwing,  
  
How good to hear from you! We have finally reached Eregion. I was right, it took seven days.  
  
Huinlas's distant cousin is rather nice. Somewhat fat for an elf and shorter than I'm used to, but nonetheless a nice fellow. Same dreamy, preoccupied nature. I mean, seriously, they spent a quarter of an hour discussing the mist that is so prevalent in this area!  
  
Also waiting here were letters from Mother. She wrote that she and Théodwyn have returned to Ithilien, while Barahir and Gildor stayed behind at Edoras. Barahir and Elfwine are planning to set off together for Dol Amroth to talk to the King and send word to Lothiriel Queen. Apparently, and understandably, she longs to hear from her family and has not had word for some time.  
  
How inquisitive you are in your last letter! Almost as bad as I am, except I ask questions myself and snoop around to discover the answers instead of bothering to ask others. But, of course, most of my inquisitions are pointed at the said elf traveling with us, and so are yours. I have the advantage to the answers since I am with him and you are not. That didn't sound snobby, did it?  
  
Your father mention you? Truly, I wouldn't know. I was not in on the conversations of the high people (i.e. your father, my father, and my uncle). Huinlas was, though. But of course I cannot ask him if he heard of you. He always becomes silent and thoughtful when I mention you. He gets a questioning look in his eyes, as if he is searching for something but knows not for what he searches. This puzzles me, but then, much puzzles me so I'll leave it alone.  
  
Ah, Fangorn. Yes, we passed though a part of it. Quite a beautiful place. Boromir disliked it, saying it made him uneasy. But I found it peaceful and close and comforting, like being held in an embrace. Huinlas was virtually speechless with delight. I could see how much he loves the woods. He was born among trees and ever will he love them, I am sure. I share a similar love for aged woods, they are my home.  
  
Huinlas's horse is enchanting. During the day it is a soft, feathery grey, but at night under the moonlight his coat shines silver and white. Celebrion is his name. Very fitting, don't you think? Miss I'm-Studying- Quenya.  
  
Actually, it just happens that I'm learning Sindarian, though not in the official way you are. Huinlas has taken it upon himself to teach me and Boromir his native tongue. He talks now only in Sindarian, which does make it rather necessary for us to learn quickly, considering he is our guide. He is also helpful, like this: (pointing to a leaf) "Las!" (pointing to a star) "Gil!" (pointing to himself) "Edhel!" So yes, I am learning.  
  
Huinlas was please you liked his poem. He didn't tell me this, I just saw it in his face. I think it was the first time he's seen your name and not gotten that queer look on his face. He seemed to be ignoring it. For while his face was relaxed, I could see a struggle in his eyes. Is there something about you you're not telling? Like I think you're hiding anything from me! Really, Silwen, how rude!  
  
The day is waning again and I must end this letter.  
  
Mellonlín, Silwen  
  
Once again, from Huinlas:  
  
Day is fading, dusk deepens, Where sings the Nightingale? Night approaches, shadows lengthen, Have you seen the stars awake? Daylight tires, breathing quivers, Is a smile upon your face? Rest is nearing, starlight shimmers, Do you yearn for daylight's fail? In the gloaming, gently flowing Comes the longed for, blessed grey.  
  
PS (Once again, I seriously don't get the poetry, but it is lovely, don't you think?) Send your next letter to Buckland, we hear the Halflings eagerly await us.  
  
[DID YOU LIKE THIS LETTER? PLEASE REVIEW!] 


	12. Eldarion's Gift

a/n Sorry it has been so long since my last post... I will try harder to get them out more often.... :) ~*DofE*~  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
ELDARION'S GIFT  
  
My dear Silwen,  
  
How long will you be on the road I wonder?   
  
Young Eldarion still comes to my room lamenting for his poor horse, Mother still intends to sell her.  
  
Thankfully I have been allowed to return to my room. Here I can look at the things Father has given me in the past, like the sword. I have a small porch which can only be reached from my room; it looks out to the mountains behind the city. I sit on the rail and sing every song that comes into my head, for no one can hear me singing above the noises of the city.  
  
Though I still have some pain now and again my ankle is much improved.  
  
I must go now. There is much commotion, as if the palace gate is opening. I must go to see what is happening.  
  
~ Later ~  
  
Silwen! Silwen! Oh Silwen! The lord Legolas has come to the city! He has brought the most beautiful horse with him. It is for Eldarion, of course, and this makes him very happy. And, Silwen, the horse is white. It is just as little Eldarion had wanted. He cannot cease speaking of it. He now spends all of his time out in the stable with him and tries to brush her, at his height!  
  
I have never seen such a wonderful horse, except for Father's horse. Legolas said this one is the daughter of Snowmane.  
  
Legolas also brought me a letter from Father. When Legolas handed me the letter his face was shining. It was strange, though, when he looked at me the shine seemed to leave, and he had a strange look in his eyes. I do not know why he looked at me so. Father sent with the letter a small necklace. It appears to be made of mithril, and on the chain is hung a small pendant in the shape of a butterfly. The wings have tiny pale blue gems which look like stars.  
  
Father says that he is doing well, and he chanced upon some elves on their way to the Grey Havens. They gave him the necklace to give to someone that he loved most dearly. Though I must say that I thought that he would have given it to mother, I feel so special that he gave it to me. He is staying in Bree now, as I am sure that you know.  
  
Yours Truly,   
  
Arwing 


	13. People of the Nothern Lands

PEOPLE OF THE NORTHERN LANDS  
  
Dear Arwing,  
  
  
  
How quickly the days pass! I haven't written for so long, nearly three and a half weeks.  
  
  
  
Greetings from Lake Evendim! We are staying here in your father's house. It is quite lovely, and the lake is splendid.  
  
  
  
Oh, is that where they were, in Bree? Sometimes I have little patience for slackers, though I was one myself for the entire trip. When we arrived on the borders of Buckland the hobbits told us to continue on north to Lake Evendim, since they had been told the king and the steward would be waiting there for us. It turns out we arrived ahead of them and knew not where they were. Two days later they showed up. So who knows.  
  
  
  
We are not allowed to enter the Shire, for it is only to be inhabited by the Hobbits, as they call themselves. But we see plenty of the little folk, I'll tell you! The other day the Tooks came with the Brandybucks to visit. They had a glorious time talking and laughing with your father. Thain Peregrin is such a fellow, I quite like him. Master Meriadoc and his wife, Estella, make a pair, they are so jolly and kind, and yet more serious than their good friends, the Tooks. I find the Hobbits to be very amusing, but then.if you know me I find much amusing.  
  
  
  
Boromir goes often with our father to look around the countryside. They sometimes take their horses, sometimes only their legs. Did that sound strange?  
  
  
  
I have seen the Shire very close. Today the Mayor took me and King Elessar and Huinlas to look over the land. Such a gentle hobbit, the mayor. He gave me a copy of a poem given to him by his friend, Mr. Baggins, called "The Call of the Moor." It makes me sad to think how the Mayor went all the way to the Black Land with Mr. Baggins, and that Mr. Baggins had to afterwards leave and take the ship into the West. How sad. Oh yes. Anyway. The Shire is a very pretty land, gentle rolling hills with soft green grass blowing in the fresh, gentle gusts of wind. Ah. Oh dear, there I go again! Save me from my day dreams!   
  
  
  
I met a very pretty hobbit day before yesterday, named Elanor. She is a year older than Barahir. Fancy that! She doesn't seem it at all. Rather she is more like me. Silly, funny, amusing. Did I say amusing again?   
  
  
  
Gracious, I am absent minded in this letter.  
  
  
  
I've been so tired of late. I sleep all night now and barely hear Huinlas singing any more. This makes me sad. I long to hear his voice in song. You would too if once you had heard it.  
  
  
  
Tired, I must close soon.  
  
  
  
~Silwen   
  
PS Here is the poem the Mayor Gardner gave to me.  
  
The Call of the Moor  
  
I see a moor  
  
Across the golden sea  
  
And hear it calling,  
  
Calling for me.  
  
I see the waves  
  
Splashing against the hull;  
  
How they are chasing,  
  
Chasing the gull!  
  
I see the sky,  
  
A globe of perfect blue;  
  
There clouds are asking,  
  
Asking of you.  
  
I see your face  
  
So full of streaming tears;  
  
How it is clouding,  
  
Clouding with fears.  
  
Your friendship, Sam,  
  
Embraces time and space;  
  
It e'er is giving,  
  
Giving me grace.  
  
I feel my pain,  
  
The never ending ache;  
  
I leave it dying,  
  
Dying in wake.  
  
I sense freedom  
  
Ahead on younder shore;  
  
Its wind is warming,  
  
Warming the moor.  
  
I see a moor  
  
And hear it calling me;  
  
So I am crossing,  
  
Crossing the sea.  
  
(by Vané Alasse) 


	14. In the Hours of the Stars

IN THE HOURS OF THE STARS  
  
Dearest Silwen,  
  
You sounded very tired in your last letter; I hope that you are in good health.  
  
I have seen a few 'hobbits' here in the city a few times, though they were here only to see the king. The Shire does sound like a very happy place, I should like to see the land. Elanor was my mother's maid for a while, when she was visiting the area several years ago.  
  
You long to hear Huinlas' singing? I do think that I would enjoy to hear him sing. A while back when Legolas came, he and mother would talk of old times and they would sing together. Elves sound so lovly when they sing together.  
  
I enjoy the quiet of my room. At night, however, I have no pleasure in the stillness and closeness of its walls. Everyone is gone to their rooms to rest and I am expected to do the same. I find I cannot do so. My mind floods with thoughts and songs. Then I take leave of my room and go out of the city walls, there I find my greatest joy. For there I can see the mountains, and the trees, and the grass fields that spread for miles. There I take Cemenril and he takes me to the mountain base, where I sing and watch the stars for the contentment of my heart. I have always had the desire to leave the borders of Gondor, the place of my birth. I want to leave and see what there is in the world, beyond the confines of walls and towers. I want to go north where my father was a lad and see the line of mountains he crossed so long ago. I desire to travel west into the horse trodden lands and north where the halflings dwell. I feel restless, like a fly caught in a spider's web. I feel I cannot get out, as if I am forever bound to this land.  
  
I hope that I shall write soon again.  
  
Mellonlín  
  
Arwing of the White Tree 


	15. Questions Unanswered

QUESTIONS UNANSWERED  
  
LAKE EVENDIM (ONCE AGAIN) TO MINAS TIRITH  
  
Dear Arwing,  
  
  
  
Such a lot of happenings in this part of the world!  
  
  
  
Yesterday I was in the house and heard a lot of arguing and raised voices in the room above me. Boromir and I were below by the base of the stairs talking to one another. When the noise started we tried to listen and discover the cause of the problem. We heard our father's voice highest of all, then King Elessar's voice in a deep, penetrating rumble answering, and sometimes a softer, mellow voice when all became quiet. We could only guess the last belonged to Huinlas. But listen as we might we could not hear well enough to understand.  
  
  
  
Finally, a door opened roughly and we heard heavy footsteps coming our way. Father came down the stairs looking flushed and more determined than I've ever seen him. He continued on down the stairs to the lower floor without even noticing us. Next came the king, his face was grave and tired, yet calm, as if he'd made up his mind and had his way. He looked silently at Boromir and nodded to me as he passed. Boromir and I had then been standing in silence for a few minutes and were about to say something at the same time (at least we both opened our mouths), when Huinlas walked down the stairs. Elves never just walk any where, they always have a purpose and usually they seem to dance rather than walk. This was the most absent-minded walk I'd ever seen in Huinlas before. His face was relaxed and his posture seemed collected, but in his eyes a fire burned. He passed us without acknowledging our presence, except to look at me as if I could not see him, and then walked out of the house.  
  
  
  
Naturally Boromir and I were very worried as to the reason for such an argument. But we could do nothing but wait, so wait we did.  
  
  
  
That night I lay in bed, tossing and turning for I knew something was wrong. And it wasn't just wrong because of the argument earlier. Something was missing.  
  
  
  
I got up and started to walk around the house. I looked out a window. There, at the edge of the lake, silhouetted by the moonlight, stood Huinlas. And, dear, he wasn't singing!  
  
  
  
Of course I went outside to find out what the problem was. I walked up behind him.  
  
  
  
"Why don't you sing, Huinlas?" I asked softly.  
  
  
  
No answer. No movement. If I could believe it I would say he wasn't even breathing.  
  
  
  
I took a few steps closer. I was almost right behind him.  
  
  
  
"What is bothering you?" I whispered.  
  
  
  
Suddenly he turned around. His unexpected move frightened me; I gasped slightly and took a step back. His eyes were on fire and his brow was twisted in that mysterious questioning look.  
  
  
  
Then it seemed he forced the look to disappear, and his eyes melted from flaming brown to soft, liquid blue. I blushed and looked at the ground. I'm sorry, Arwing, there is an enchantment in elven eyes which I cannot bear to look upon.  
  
  
  
He took my hands in his. It was a cool night. Here in the north Autumn is far advanced. When I had walked outside I had been cold, when I had been frightened I had become unnaturally hot and then the air around me had seemed even colder. Now, as he took my hands, I felt warm all over, and the night, its coldness and everything around me vanished from my notice. All I could see were the piercing blue eyes looking into mine.  
  
  
  
What he spoke then I cannot remember in his wording. The words were not important, all I noticed was the rhythm of his voice. He could have been speaking in a different language for all I know. Yet somehow the main point was made clear to me, I know not how.  
  
  
  
He would be leaving, going away for a long time. Though he would return as quickly as possible, he did not know how soon that would be. He said he had something very important to look after. Something concerning, ah yes, I remember his words, "a friend dear to us both."  
  
  
  
When he finished speaking I stood there as in a trance, looking into his eyes. For how long I do not know; a few seconds, perhaps a few hours. Gently he brought my hands together and lightly kissed the back of my right hand. Then he let go and I backed away, walked into the house and lay awake for some hours staring at the ceiling.  
  
  
  
This morning he left. Gone away east on his beautiful horse at a speed unsurpassable. Boromir met me on the porch as I was looking away into the distance, trying to see Huinlas. He smiled and took my hand. We both looked east.  
  
  
  
"He has gone to Mirkwood, you know."  
  
"Really?" I asked in surprise.  
  
"Yes. He wished you to accompany him."  
  
"Really?" I asked in greater surprise.  
  
"That is why Father was so upset yesterday. He could not, of course, permit it."  
  
"Of course." I said without thinking.  
  
  
  
It turns out Father is also upset because now we have no guide home, save King Elessar. But he will not be returning home for many weeks, so it appears we will be staying some time in the hospitality of the hobbits.  
  
  
  
Boromir told me not to expect any word from Huinlas while he is away. He said so few travel the long road that Huinlas will be back himself far sooner than any mail could reach us.  
  
  
  
So now I sit here in my room pondering the last twenty-four hours with much interest and wonder. So many questions unanswered.  
  
  
  
Well, dear, I must close once again. This letter is long enough to make the carrier hesitant to take it for its weight.  
  
  
  
So I leave you once again,  
  
Silwen 


	16. Mother Arwen's Secret

MOTHER ARWEN'S SECRET  
  
Dear Silwen,  
  
  
  
In your letter, you said dear Father Elessar looked tired. Is this truly so? Mother Arwen fears for him day by day. On the sunrise of the day before yesterday she fell ill, and all in the house feared for her. She is to have a child, but has kept this a secret; she did not want Eldarion to go off and tell all of his friends. They have placed her in the House of Healing, until she is feeling better. The child is due to come in the months of Winter.  
  
I have never been able to see that enchanting look of the elves, save the one time Lord Legolas brought me the letter. For my mother's eyes lost the enchantment when she chose mortality. Though they still shine.  
  
Do you know why Huinlas wanted you to travel with him.  
  
How long do you think that you will be in the north? I am sorry I have nothing interesting to say in my letters. Not much has been happening lately. I have merely been answering your questions.  
  
I must close. Eldarion wants me to take him on his afternoon ride.  
  
Namarie,  
  
Arwing of the White Tree  
  
PS Tinwe's kittens have gotten rather large. There are five of them, and they sleep on my bed, for it is very soft. They are keeping Tinwe busy and can be quite demanding. When you come to the White City, you must help me name them. 


	17. A Voice in the Night

A VOICE IN THE NIGHT  
  
Dear Arwing,  
  
  
  
How lovely! The mail has come today. I have received a letter from you and several from Mother and those at home.   
  
  
  
Théodwyn drew me a picture of something, I'm not quite sure what. Anyway, it was quite thoughtful, don't you think?  
  
  
  
Mother writes that they are back home in Ithilien now and all goes well. I long to be back home, though I am having rather a nice time here.  
  
  
  
Barahir, it seems, has had a nice stay in Dol Amroth. He met a pretty girl who Mother hints he may possibly marry. Imagine that! My brother married. How absurd!  
  
  
  
How exciting that your mother is expecting a baby! I'm thrilled for you!  
  
  
  
I thought it would be quite dull here after Huinlas left, but things have been far otherwise.   
  
  
  
The first few nights I could hardly sleep for a lack of his singing, which I have heard now for so many years at the twilight. There are no elves here, and it was quite desolate of song. That is, for a while.  
  
  
  
One night I heard a voice, singing softly, slowly an old elven melody. I couldn't imagine who it could be. I wondered at first if Huinlas had returned early, but no it was not his voice.  
  
  
  
I wandered around the house, listening and wondering. All was lit by the stars; the constellations are beautiful here. I went outside the side door and stared into the night. A peace seemed to reign on everything, as if all nature was listening to the voice.  
  
  
  
I walked around the house, to the lakeside. There, on the dock, standing and singing softly in a deep voice, was you will never believe who, your father!  
  
  
  
I remember now tales that he grew up among elves, but it never occurred to me that he could sing like one of them. Such a voice he has, Arwing!  
  
  
  
Well, I could write more, for I have much to tell, but the man delivering the mail is in a hurry to be off again, so I must close.  
  
  
  
You will hear from me soon, I hope!  
  
~Silwen  
  
  
  
PS The trees are turning lovely colors! Bright, red, yellow, and orange. It is such a sight! 


	18. A Walk by Lake Evendim

A WALK BY LAKE EVENDIM  
  
Dear Arwing,  
  
  
  
The funniest thing happened today!   
  
  
  
Boromir and I were walking together by the lake. We often have found amusement in this, for there is not much else to do. The hobbits are busy with their last minute harvest gathering, and here at Lake Evendim preparations are being made against the frost and perhaps a snowfall.   
  
  
  
Anyway.  
  
  
  
Boromir and I walked a long time in silence. We had been walking nearly an hour, when he stopped short and looked out over the water. A flock of geese flew overhead, honking and honking into the distance. Then, without looking at me, he spoke.  
  
  
  
"You have become good friends with Huinlas?"  
  
Totally unexpected.  
  
"Uh.yes, I suppose so. You have also." I replied.  
  
He waved his hand as if to shove away the last remark. Then he stared a while longer at the ripples on the surface of the dark blue water. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, as if uncomfortable.  
  
"Silwen."  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Has.has Huinlas proposed to you?"  
  
I stared at him. Blank unawareness was all over my face. I didn't have time too answer.  
  
"I saw you, the other day, before he went away. By the lake. At night. You remember?"  
  
I looked at him in disbelief. But he was serious. His face was overcome with the queer combination of Mother's determination and Father's loving questioning. He was worried! He was worried that I was engaged to Huinlas!   
  
I couldn't help myself any longer. I feel silly to say this, Arwing, but I burst into laughter. I laughed long and hard. I had to double over and sit on the ground. Tears started to roll down my cheeks, I was laughing so hard.  
  
Boromir didn't seem to find anything funny about it, and as I hadn't answered his question yet, he persisted in standing and looking troubled.  
  
Finally I was able to calm down and recover myself.  
  
"Well?" he asked, only slightly annoyed.  
  
"Goodness, no!" I almost shouted.  
  
It was obvious he thought I was making a fool of myself, and I was.  
  
He knelt in front of me and took my hands.  
  
"Truly?"  
  
"Truly."  
  
He helped me to my feet, but still held my left hand. We continued walking.  
  
"Father was worried, you know," he said.  
  
"You mean you were worried."  
  
He flashed a slightly angry face at me, then looked ahead.  
  
"Both."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Huinlas is an elf," he began.  
  
"Yes, I know that."  
  
"He is a special elf," he said hesitantly.  
  
"All elves are special."  
  
"Perhaps."  
  
Why did he have to revert to his gentlemanliness?   
  
"What do you mean?" I prodded.  
  
"Never mind. You will know someday."  
  
"But I think it would be best for me to know now if such an engagement would be forbidden," I said.  
  
"You will know soon."  
  
"How is it that my own brother will not have confidence in his elder sister?"  
  
He almost chuckled.  
  
"What is it? What is wrong?" I asked.  
  
"Nothing you need fret about now. As long as you have told the truth --you are not engaged-- all will be well."  
  
"Do you doubt me?" I asked, appalled.  
  
He sighed.   
  
"No. But the world is a strange place and things unexpected, like a sister hiding something of great importance from her brother, have happened before and may happen again."  
  
I spent so much time muddling over this statement that I forgot to ask him what it meant until we had arrived back at the house. I opened my mouth to ask him, but he put his hand lightly over my lips.  
  
"Hush. Think not more of this. I will tell Father. All is well," he said.  
  
Then he embraced me and walked into the house leaving me quite at a loss.  
  
So here I am now, writing all my thoughts to you. I am completely without comprehension of the day, as usual.  
  
  
  
Oh dear, Father is knocking at my door. I had better end this now and see him.  
  
  
  
Until I may write again,  
  
~Silwen 


	19. Eldarion Laments

ELDARION LAMENTS  
  
My Dear Silwen,  
  
  
  
Eldarion laments on my bed with the kittens because Father is absent from home. The poor little child has not been this long without him before, as far as he can remember.  
  
I, too, wish you could meet my young brother. He wishes to see you. He is becoming a better horseman day by day. Eldarion continues to grow, as does his desire to see Father Elessar again. I fear that day by day he is starting to forget many things about the King.   
  
Shall you be returning home soon?   
  
Tinwë's kittens are continuing to grow, though I think they are starting to grow more from side to side than taller and sleeker as kittens should.   
  
Cemenril has been longing for longer rides, as have I. I let him run as he wishes on some occasions, though not to his fullness of his heart's desire. I am sure that would lead us beyond the borders of Gondor. If I did go that far, I should long to continue even farther, and I'm not sure that would be a good circumstance.  
  
I should end, for the letter carrier has been waiting in the hall for quite some time now.   
  
  
  
Namárië   
  
Mellonlín   
  
  
  
~Arwing of the White Tree~ 


	20. Message for Lady Arwing from Mirkwood

A MESSAGE FOR LADY ARWING FROM MIRKWOOD  
  
Seven stars set in a silver sea  
  
and seven awakening.  
  
Seven stars set in a silver sea  
  
and seven echoing.  
  
Seven stars set in a silver sea  
  
and seven answering. 


	21. The Wintery Lands

THE WINTERY LANDS  
  
Dear Arwing,  
  
  
  
The days drawl on and on. It seems forever that I have been here in the North. I miss my homeland, and grow restless for the day we will return.  
  
The king and Father ride often into the wilds. Sometimes Boromir rides with them. When he does then I am alone and have little to do but stare at the fire, as is the case today.  
  
It is cold here now. First frost has come and gone, and many more have followed, expected and unheeded. As I write this the first flakes of snow are falling from the high, grey clouds. A dreary wind is sluggishly tossing the ice and everything in its lazy path in eddies and circles. It is indeed very forlorn and lonesome here.  
  
The other day I had a visitor. Elanor, the young hobbit, came to talk with me and we had a pleasant time. It was a good way to pass the slow hours, and I do love company.  
  
Because we did not expect to be here so long I am not prepared for the cold weather. I have begun work on a cloak with fabric I bought from a Brandybuck. It is soft and warm, and a gentle shade of grey. I'll fit in with the clouds splendidly.  
  
Boromir, too, and Father, wish to leave soon for home, but it seems King Elessar has important things to which he must attend. However he says perhaps we may leave in a fortnight or so, which is encouraging to hear, considering the length of time we have passed here already.  
  
Mother writes that all goes well at home. Gildor is home from his extended stay in Rohan. At ten I can hardly believe Mother allowed him to be away for so long. But apparently Éomer King was fond of him and they got along well together. Barahir, it seems, spends little time at home of late. He went to Rohan to fetch Gildor, and is now back in Dol Amroth. Mother again hints of a sister-in-law to be. He is awfully young to marry, and I find him too keen on freedom to settle down soon. Though, he always understood me best of my brothers. I can see how he could easily win a girl's heart.  
  
The evenings here are tolerable, aside the sad absence of our elven friend. The four of us gather around the grand fireplace and talk of the day's happenings. I usually have little to talk of which interests the others. Lately King Elessar has been continuing our studies in Sindarin. I am learning slowly, yet I am learning. Father helps us also, for he of old learned much lore and history.  
  
What else do I have to say? I do not know; not much has happened. I will close now and write again when I have something, anything of interest, to report.  
  
  
  
Mellonlín,  
  
~Silwen 


	22. Lady Eowyn Has Come

LADY EOWYN HAS COME TO VISIT  
  
Dear Silwen,  
  
Lady Éowyn has to come and stay at the palace with Mother Arwen, for she is in need of some company while she is expecting child.  
  
Frost has not yet come here for we are much farther to the south than you, and we still have a few leaves on the trees. I expect to have frost on my window before long, though.  
  
I sit here now with young Théodwyn on my lap, for she is fond of me. She and Gildor have accompanied your mother to Minas Tirith. Théodwyn and my young brother Eldarion are getting along splendidly.  
  
I have received word from Huinlas, though only a poem. He says nothing of how he is doing, nor why he is there in the forests of the north. Though the last poem he has sent to me is very beautiful, I understand it least of the others. I think it may have a double meaning. I have enclosed it with this letter. What do you think it means?  
  
I must end this letter short, for I must take my leave of your family.  
  
Mellonlín,  
  
Arwing of the White Tree 


	23. Last Letter from Evendim

LAST LETTER FROM EVENDIM   
  
Dear Arwing,  
  
  
  
My mother gone from Ithilien to Minas Tirith? Are you out of your mind? How absurd! Are you in earnest?  
  
Fancy that you should hear from Huinlas before we do! Impressive.   
  
You asked about the meaning of his poem. I don't know. It was very lovely, somewhat haunting. It made a chill run up and down my back.  
  
Oh, but Arwing, I accidentally left your letter on the mantle by the fire (how careless, I know.). I found your father reading it! Would you believe it? He took the paper that had the poem away, so now I cannot even read it. And the strangest thing of all is that I cannot remember a single word of it, though I read it several times. I find this very odd indeed.  
  
We have begun preparations for traveling south. It seems King Elessar has sudden need to be home.  
  
We are to leave soon, perhaps tomorrow afternoon. We have been here since three weeks past Midsummer, and now the snow of early winter is blanketing the land. It will be so good to be home.  
  
King Elessar says we will be traveling by the quickest route. We are taking the Greenway south to the Gap of Rohan, and then into Gondor. At least, this is my understanding of our path, which is little, for maps do not make sense to me. Boromir understands better than I do; reads them with skill. We have not set out earlier because Father was wary of the journey, especially if we embarked without a guide. But King Elessar knows this path well. We should have few difficulties along the way.  
  
I hear hoofbeats! Let me go see...  
  
  
  
~Later~  
  
  
  
Arwing, oh Arwing! Huinlas has returned!  
  
Oh Arwing! He is so...changed. I feel I do not know him, that I have never known him.  
  
There is such conversation below, much needs be discussed before tomorrow. Especially now that Huinlas has returned. I desire to go down and listen and observe.  
  
Perhaps I will write again soon. We will not be long on the road, if possible. The king wishes to move with all haste.  
  
  
  
Mellonlín,  
  
~Silwen  
  
  
  
PS Please forgive my scribbling hand and poor writing. I am just in such a flutter! 


	24. Dear Silwen

SILWEN  
  
Dearest Silwen,  
  
I have received your letter today. I am sending this letter to Eregion. I am not sure it will get to you, for I am afraid you have already passed by.  
  
I now fear Father Elessar has read Huinlas's poem. You should be much more careful with your things. I do not know what he might say to me. I am worried, though I know not why.  
  
Huinlas has returned? I am not certain this gladdens my heart. Has the King spoken to Huinlas privately?   
  
Where do you think you will be next? I am debating where to address this letter.  
  
I feel it is not your fault for misplacing the letter. I should not have sent you the poem.  
  
Mellonlín,  
  
Arwing   
  
PS Please if you must, burn this letter, but do not let any other soul read what I have written. 


	25. From the Greenway

FROM THE GREENWAY  
  
Dear Arwing,  
  
  
  
We are now nearly a week out of Evendim. Boromir has been watching the map and says we will soon cross the Greyfold.   
  
We travel hard. We have been going at a gallop much of the time. It is difficult to keep up with the others, for my dear Hwesta is not used to such exercise.  
  
King Elessar rides in the lead. He seems not to tire, and only reluctantly halts after sunset to make camp for the night. I think he does not sleep much. His face is grey and set. In his eyes there is kindled not a fear, but an anxiousness. He is so introverted. Sometimes I wonder if he forgets we are with him, for he speaks only if addressed.  
  
I received your letter, though neither it nor I passed through Eregion. I know not with whom you originally sent it, for when I was given it an elf with much spirit and little knowledge of where he was going carried it.  
  
All this traveling is no fun. I will be so relieved to be back in Ithilien.  
  
I do not know if your father spoke to Huinlas. Because if he did, I wouldn't know about it.  
  
Huinlas is so different now. He seems older and younger at the same time. He never wears the questioning look, although I see something similar to it in the king's expression. I have yet to talk to Huinlas of his trip to Mirkwood. Somehow he seems unapproachable.  
  
I apologize for the brevity of this letter. I am tired and we are allowed little time to sleep.  
  
  
  
~Silwen  
  
  
  
PS Write next to Edoras, I suppose. You could try Helm's Deep as well. 


	26. Silwen, traveling with King Elessar in R...

SILWEN, TRAVELING WITH KING ELESSAR IN ROHAN  
  
Dear Silwen,  
  
How and in what way does Huinlas seem unapproachable? I have never heard you talk of someone like this in the past.  
  
Eldarion has guessed that you are returning home. I don't know how he knows. I haven't read him your letters in a long time.   
  
Your mother and younger siblings are still here. They wish you and your father and brother would come to the city as well. Your mother has also sent word to Barahir, he is to come to the city in a few days.  
  
How much longer do you think you will be on the road?   
  
Mother Arwen is very pleased knowing you all are on the way to Minas Tirith.   
  
  
  
Mellonlín,  
  
Arwing  
  
  
  
PS I am sorry I have not much to write. Little has happened. 


	27. Hiril Arwing

HIRIL ARWING   
  
Seven gems to rest on chosen hand  
  
and seven quavering.  
  
Seven gems to ride a silver band  
  
and seven shimmering.  
  
Seven gems to guard a precious land  
  
and seven answering. 


	28. Sunrise on the Greenway

Sunrise on the Greenway  
  
Dear Arwing,  
  
This morning I woke earlier than usual, and lay restless for a while. The dawn had not yet come. Finally I could stay where I was no longer; I got up and started to walk away from camp. Everyone was sleeping; all was still.  
  
Here the ground is uneven and rough, being covered with coarse grass. Scraggly trees dot the country. Far to the south a grey haze indicates the Ered Nimras. We are but a few days from the crossing at Greyfold.  
  
I wandered to a small hill on the eastern edge of camp. When I looked back I noticed I was farther away than I expected, but did not worry. In the far east the stars were dimming and the black sky was fading to purple.  
  
I watched the horizon for some time, just staring.  
  
A hand touching my shoulder made me start. I turned quickly. The face I saw I knew, yet the eyes were so changed.  
  
"Huinlas?" I whispered.  
  
He took his hand away, then stared at me with those strange eyes for a few minutes.  
  
I tried to divert my eyes, but he would not let me.  
  
"Why so afraid?" he asked.  
  
"I don't know."  
  
A few minutes passed.  
  
"You have been avoiding me, Silwen," he said.  
  
"I have?"  
  
He turned away, and faced the east. A blush of pink was floating on the tips of clouds far away.  
  
"Why?" he asked.  
  
I fumbled for an answer.  
  
"Tell me," he said.  
  
"You have changed," I began.  
  
It seemed as though he wanted to smile, but did not allow himself.  
  
"Change is often a necessary part of life," he replied.  
  
"Yes," I said, not knowing why.  
  
We stood in silence for a few minutes.  
  
"I have been wanting to speak with you," he said.  
  
"Have you?"  
  
"Yes. I wanted to tell you something, show you something."  
  
He turned towards me.  
  
"Look," he said.  
  
Of course I obeyed. In his fingers he held a ring, a beautiful ring. A single band of entwining silver branches. Into it were set seven gems, shining with a dazzling light. Their beauty was deeper than any stone I had ever seen. Purer was their light than any star in a cloudless sky, and the unity of their brilliance was beyond wonderful; I did not know wether to be sad or happy in their presence and so struggled with both emotions at once.  
  
"Seven stars and seven stones and one white tree," he murmured.  
  
With effort I turned my eyes from the ring to Huinlas.  
  
"When did you get it?" I asked.  
  
"I have always had it."  
  
"But I do not remember seeing it before," I said.  
  
"No. You would not. It was hidden," he said.  
  
"Hidden?" I asked, now truly puzzled.  
  
"Yes, though I wore it always. It is a special ring," he said.  
  
Special. The word rung in my mind. Then I remembered Boromir's words, "He is a special elf."  
  
"Special," I mused allowed.  
  
Huinlas looked into my eyes.  
  
"Special, like you are special." My voice trailed to nothing. I felt held in a trance, with only those blue eyes to keep me awake.  
  
Huinlas looked troubled.   
  
"You know more than you appear to know," he said.  
  
"No. Less," I answered.  
  
He put the ring onto his finger.  
  
"For now," he said.  
  
I wanted to ask him to tell me more, to explain away the mysteries surrounding him. But he had an absent look. He stood staring into the east, watching the sun rise. He seemed tall and strong, brave. He stood there and I stood beside him, but hardly on the same ground. He seemed so much greater than me, so much better. He was not the Huinlas I had known back in Ithilien. He was a much different Huinlas. A much more real Huinlas.  
  
Oh Arwing, what happened next I cannot say yet. Perhaps next time I write I will be able to do so. But not now...  
  
  
  
~Silwen  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Note from DofE and Vane Alasse:  
  
Sorry about the ring! Trust us, we tried to think of ANYTHING but a ring, but nothing seemed to work. Crowns, bracelets, necklaces, capes, earrings, toe rings, sandals, athelas tea in sparkly silver wrapper, hats, deodorant, hand lotion, tooth paste, make-up, scepters, books, papers, letters, starry eyes, pens, pins, clasps, broaches, etc. But it just didn't work...  
  
"Seven stars and seven stones and one white tree" is from Tolkien. I think (though don't quote me) Gandalf mentions it to Pippin while in Gondor in Return of the King.  
  
~~Also, if you've been following this story but haven't yet reviewed, please do so. :) We LOVE to hear from you! Thanks to all the faithful reviewers! We really appreciate your comments. :) ~~  
  
Evenstar Elanor: g I think the chapters get longer now... :) 


	29. Suspense and Stitchery

Suspense and Stitchery  
  
Dear Silwen,  
  
        Why were you unable to write what next took place? Is something wrong that you do not wish to write, or to tell me? You have left me hanging in suspense.  
  
        Your brother, Barahir is now here in the city. He has taken it upon himself to sit with me every afternoon and talk, though I know not why he does this. He talks nothing of his trip to Dol Amroth. While he talks I continue work on the dress I have begun sewing for myself. I have progressed quite far on it now, and it finally begins to look like a dress. It is the color of the twilight when the stars have come out, for there is a silver outline on the neckline, wrists, and hem.   
  
        I have not been able to speak with Mother Arwen often, for she had the baby. She is a girl, and so pretty. She is such a sweet child. Eldarion can talk of nothing but how wonderful she is, and how much they look alike. This is only because they both look like their father. They both have dark, wavy hair and sea grey eyes. When she cries Mother sings to her elven songs. I love hearing her sing; she had not done so since my father left in the summer. Mother wishes not to name her until he returns.   
  
        I spend much time in my room. There I am able to get away from all of the visitors who come to see the baby. Here I sit, with Tinwe's fastly growing kittens upon my lap, writing you this letter.  
  
        Barahir is knocking at my door. No doubt he would like to talk again.   
  
Mellonlín,  
  
Arwing of the White Tree 


	30. Attack on the Greenway

Attack on the Greenway  
  
PAST EDORAS TO MINAS TIRITH  
  
Oh Arwing.  
  
What I have not been able to write, I will attempt to put into words now.  
  
In my last letter I believe I left you with Huinlas and myself standing on the hill. That was now three days ago, and we have come and gone through Edoras. We will soon be in Minas Tirith. Although you probably already know of our coming, for we will not be the first of our party to arrive, if all goes as planned.  
  
While Huinlas and I were standing on the hill the sun was just creeping over the horizon. Then we heard it. A shout. Horses neighing. More shouts answering. Oh Arwing.  
  
We turned around and looked down at the camp. Huinlas grabbed my arm and pulled me behind his back. But I had seen. Yes, I had seen.  
  
Orcs. Big, awful, ugly, brutal orcs. Where they came from we do not know, nor wither they were going.   
  
Swords clashing.  
  
Huinlas pulled me over behind the nearest tree and let go of my arm.  
  
"Delio hi!" he whispered hoarsely.  
  
I did not understand what he had said, but I couldn't do anything else. I fell to the ground, my back against the tree trunk.  
  
Then he ran back to camp, his bow singing.  
  
I shivered all over. I could hear the voices of Boromir and my father and the king. And I heard cruel voices. Shouting, always shouting.  
  
I looked around the tree. My heart quickened. They were fighting, desperately. There were many orcs. I tried to turn farther to see more, but something caught on the tree. I looked down. My sword.  
  
With shaking hands I reached for the hilt. It felt cold and terrible. I could not grasp it. My fingers were sweating, shaking, and freezing cold.  
  
Oh Arwing, I could not move. How I wanted to help, wanted to be able to do something, anything. But I was not able. My arm would not move when I commanded it, nor would my legs support me. Twice I tried to stand and twice I fell.  
  
I felt useless. Miserable.  
  
I knew my father and brother were below, fighting for their lives. And Huinlas.  
  
I was in a wretched state.  
  
Then a scream. Louder than the others, and more desperate, for it was cut off at its height. I turned around.  
  
Several orcs were lying, headless and dead on the ground. Hideous.  
  
And then, my brother.  
  
Oh Arwing! I saw my brother fall.  
  
Three figures I recognized running and charging, stabbing and grappling. I saw the remaining orcs turn and run away, vaguely.  
  
I saw my brother lying on the ground.  
  
The three figures followed the retreating orcs northward quickly. There were shouts and grunts in the distance.   
  
The dust settled over the camp.  
  
Then, and only then, did I find the strength to stand. Now I was not frightened. I was angry. I was on fire. My brother lay on the ground, and they had cause this.  
  
I half stumbled, half fell down the hill. I tripped over a dead orc, my dress tore and was smeared with something horrible. I crawled over to my brother.  
  
He lay on his back. His face was covered with grime. His eyes were closed.  
  
"Boromir?" I whispered.  
  
Nothing.  
  
"Boromir!"  
  
Nothing.  
  
"Brother!"  
  
Nothing.  
  
I put his head in my lap. And sat staring at him. I pushed my hair out of my eyes, and realized I was crying. I sat there for what seemed a long while.  
  
Footsteps made me stir.  
  
It was Father, the king, and Huinlas.  
  
They all looked anxious. They all were tired and worried. They all seemed older.  
  
"I told you to stay where you were!" Huinlas said roughly.  
  
"Let her be," said my father.  
  
"Suppose more had come!" Huinlas nearly shouted.  
  
"What will be shall be," the king answered. "We cannot alter fate."  
  
Father knelt beside me and looked over Boromir. King Elessar watched Boromir intently.  
  
"He is not yet dead," the king said.  
  
"No," said Father gravely. "Not yet."  
  
"Huinlas, gather the horses," said King Elessar.  
  
Huinlas obeyed, but returned with only three.  
  
King Elessar stood and took the bridle of his horse.  
  
"They fled?" he asked.  
  
Huinlas nodded silently.  
  
I sat on the ground, now a ways from my brother, tears running unwanted down my face.  
  
Father and the king talked softly together. They lifted Boromir onto the king's horse.  
  
"What are you doing?" I asked, but the voice did not sound like mine.  
  
Neither looked at me.  
  
"Taking Boromir to Minas Tirith by the quickest road," the king answered.  
  
"Wait," I whispered. Even my voice did not obey me.  
  
But they did not wait. They did not even look back at me. King Elessar jumped onto his horse behind Boromir and sped off into the distance.  
  
Father stood staring after them.  
  
Huinlas gave Father his horse's bridle.  
  
"Come," the elf said. "Let us be gone also."  
  
"Silwen," said Father. "Ride with me."  
  
I mounted behind him. My horse was one of the two who had fled.  
  
Huinlas started at a quickly, and we followed.  
  
I must close now. Memories from that day are not pleasant; it has been painful to write of them.  
  
Silwen 


	31. House of Healing at twilight

HOUSE OF HEALING AT TWILIGHT  
  
Dear Silwen,  
  
I am sorry to hear that such a terrible thing happened. I am sorry to hear it pains you to speak of such things. Yet we must continue on with life as we are led into it and keep on living for those near to us, and those of whom we keep close to our hearts.  
  
Yes, as you said, the king and your brother, Boromir, have arrived in Minas Tirith. I have not had any word from Father Elessar since they arrived yesterday at sunrise. He only looks at me, seemingly perplexed. Perhaps he is unhappy with me.  
  
Boromir has been in the House of Healing with the king. They are both very worn out from the journey. Father Elessar is lacking rest, I can tell, yet he refuses to leave Boromir's side to care for him.  
  
Mother Arwen accompanied Eldarion as he carried Baby to see Father Elessar in the House of Healing. The king looked his second daughter and smiled at Eldarion, but said nothing. Eldarion is so disappointed Father does not wish to spend time with him. For he loves his father so. He has also wanted to show Father Elessar his new horse which Lord Legolas gave to him as a gift. I told him not to bother the king with such things.  
  
Oh Silwen, how your mother worries. I ran to her quarters the morning Boromir arrived to tell her he was not in good health. She hurried to the House of Healing, and has hardly left his side. I have found I am able to help everyone best by caring for your younger siblings, Eldarion, and the baby.  
  
Barahir spends much time helping me with the younger ones as well. He is so kind to me. He is also a big help with your siblings.   
  
The child still has no name. I have started to call her Estel, meaning hope, what my father was called as a child. I have done this also in hope that she may have a real name soon.  
  
I have not been able to work on my dress for such a time, for there is so much work to be done. As it is, everyone here in the palace has been overworked, for the king needs assistance caring for Boromir. How I should like to wear my new dress for Father Elessar!  
  
The real challenge now has been to get the king to bed at night for he wants to stay the whole night with Boromir. I have volunteered to watch Boromir during the night so my father may leave and not feel guilty for deserting his post.   
  
Here I sit watching Boromir as I write. Dear Silwen, Boromir has just opened his eyes. He breathes haltingly, and has a large wound on his right shoulder. His knee, too, seems injured. I can see the pain he is in from the way that he looks at me, the fear in his eyes. We are worried the orcs may return upon you. I tell him you are on your way here, yet it seems he cannot hear what I say to him.   
  
I fear to say luck, yet you are lucky you had some wonderful warriors with you that dawn, for otherwise you and your brother might not still be alive.  
  
I have not been able to see Cemenril, much less ride him, for two days now. I have no idea what he might be doing to the stable master, for he can get excited easily. He does this most when he has not been ridden for some time, as now. I have thought of telling the stable master to let Cemenril free, yet had neither the chance nor the desire to see my dear horse run the open plains riderless.  
  
Boromir now has closed his eyes. He is now resting which is good.  
  
I shall now close. I shall send it with a dear bird, a falcon who is a friend to us all here in the palace. He has good eyes, and hopefully shall find you soon.  
  
Mellonlín,  
  
Arwing  
  
PS I hope you may arrive here in the city soon, as do your siblings and mother. 


	32. Evening of Sorrow

Evening of Sorrow  
  
FROM THE PLAINS OF ROHAN  
  
Dear Arwing,  
  
I have received your letter. Thank you. It is good to hear my brother yet lives.  
  
I have not been this optimistic for a long while, but now I have hope that he may be alive when we reach the city. Father seems less sad, but no less worried.  
  
We travel with anxiousness, yet not with speed for Father's horse, though a good and faithful one, is not strong enough to carry two people great distances with equally great speed. It feels as though we inch along to Minas Tirith. Huinlas once suggested, on one of these silent, voiceless, uncountable days that I ride with him part of the time, to save one horse the burden. It was strange to hear his voice, for we rarely talk. Father didn't even look at him.  
  
"No," he said.  
  
        "But we would travel more quickly," Huinlas responded.  
  
        "Our speed will not save Boromir," Father answered.  
  
The other night I went walking a little ways from camp to collect water from a stream. Since we are now deep into Rohan Father seems not to worry about attacking orcs. I am allowed to do things alone, if within sight of camp.  
  
I was very tired, and very worried about Boromir. I love my brother so much, I don't want him to die. No one had spoken since the day of the attack, and I was growing very wound up and tight. I knew it would just take one more little thing and then I would burst.  
  
Huinlas walked up behind me. I knew him without turning around. Elven footfalls are hard to hear if you have never heard them before, but I knew Huinlas's. They are very familiar to me.  
  
"Silwen," he said.  
  
That was all it took.  
  
Immediately the tears started to well up in my eyes. I dropped to my knees, unable or unwilling to stand any longer. It was the first voice I had heard in so many unbearably long, silent hours, and it broke me.  
  
"Silwen," Huinlas said again, this time softer.  
  
        He walked over to me, knelt down and took my hands. And then.  
  
Oh Arwing, forgive me. I have always been impulsive and overly emotional. Little things have always bothered me greatly, and big things drive me nearly mad. I was very pathetic just then. I felt like a very little girl. If Mother had been there I would have run to her, and if Father had been right there I would have gone to him. But Mother was miles and miles away, and Father was too wrapped in his own grief and worries to help me with mine.  
  
But Huinlas was there. Arwing, I fell into his arms. I laid my head on his shoulder and just cried. I could not support myself at all, I fell to pieces. Or, at least I would have, if his arms had not been around me.  
  
He supported me, comforted me. A song, there was a song he sang softly. I do not remember the words, but I do remember the reaction I had to them. I relaxed. I felt calmer.  
  
Finally the tears stopped coming. I stopped shaking, and sat there only breathing. It was calming to hear the steady sound of my breath, instead of my thunderous heartbeat.  
  
The moon shone brightly. Its face reflected in the running stream, mirrored in little eddies and dancing on the ripples.  
  
"Do you never grieve, Huinlas?" I whispered. My voice was strange, weak.  
  
        A silence followed. The brook murmured to itself.  
  
"More than eight lives of men I have walked this earth, much grief I have seen. Sorrow, yes, and heartache. I have felt both. And they linger. For me, Silwen, grief is not just a burst of emotion."  
  
He moved so I could see his face.  
  
"You, little one, are young. But your life travels at a pace I cannot imagine. Your days are numbered. Some day they will come to a close. But I will still be here."  
  
A few hot tears started to fall again, very softly, very slowly.  
  
"For you grief will last but a short time. A moment, a day, a year. Perhaps longer. But you are given the blessing of time. Time will heal you. As the days pass that separate you from your sorrow you will gradually learn to move on with life, not because you tell yourself you must, but because it is natural to you. "  
  
"But for you?" I asked.  
  
He sighed. A deep sigh. One like I have never heard before.  
  
        "For me." His voice trailed to nothing.  
  
A silence.  
  
"I must face every day with each grief as fresh as the day the wound was inflicted. My life goes on, but the sorrow does not heal. With each passing year I grow more accustomed to its ache, but it does not lessen. No. It hurts, but there is no escape. For me, I have no hope in time, for time does not heal me. Immortality is my lot, my portion. In it there is much that must be endured, but not overcome. I am bound to the world, and its sorrows are mine as long as it remains."  
  
The tears were streaming in hot trails down my cheeks.  
  
"Silwen, weep not. This is not your fate. Do not try to bear my burdens for me."  
  
I leaned my head against his shoulder again. I tried not to cry, but it felt so good. I was letting go of my fear and my anxiety for just a few moments, and it was blessed relief.  
  
My thoughts wandered to Boromir, and as they did I remembered the conversation I'd had with him by the lake, when he had suspected that I was engaged to Huinlas. I laughed just a little inside. At this moment I could think of Huinlas as nothing greater than a brother. And a brother is great. Perhaps not like a brother, perhaps even closer, a friend. A good friend. Yes. Huinlas will always be a friend to me, and I will never desire anything more. To have such a friend is more than many can boast.  
  
Goodbye for now, Arwing. I have spent too long writing this. It is very late.  
  
I hope to be soon in the city. And there we will meet for the first time, friend!  
  
Silwen   
  
Note: We have already written more letters, and are in the process of editing them. It may take a bit longer to post than before, because many of the letters contain plot we don't like anymore. Thanks to the reviewers! We LOVE to hear from you!   
  
DofE and VA   
  
PS Here's a question for all y'all: From what you've read so far, who do you think writes each letter?   
  
a.) DofE and VA combine on both   
  
b.) DofE writes Arwing and VA writes Silwen   
  
c.) DofE writes Silwen and VA writes Arwing   
  
We know, just wondered if you could tell.   
  
BTW: what is so great about Huinlas anyway? 


	33. Twilight Vigil

Twilight Vigil  
  
Dear Silwen,  
  
Your brother is slowly improving. I see the pain in his eyes; I know he hurts. Considering the size of his wounds the king thinks it will be some weeks before he is healed.  
  
I have been here in the House of Healing in the twilight to sit and watch Boromir. For the past few nights Barahir has been coming for the first few hours after sunset, so I shall not be alone as long. King Elessar has been tending to Boromir all day every day since they have arrived. I come to watch during the night so he may rest. It does not trouble me to stay awake during the night for I find I cannot sleep anyway.   
  
I have finished my dress. It is lovely. I am excited to wear it, though I have not had a chance yet.   
  
While I was sewing last night Boromir woke up. He was thirsty and drank. Then he started speaking. I did not expect him to do so since the night was far advanced. He spoke of how he saw the orcs coming upon the camp, and how he saw you and Huinlas on the hill at the sunrise. He thinks again that Huinlas proposed to you.   
  
I took Cemenril out on a very long ride today. He truly enjoyed it. The cold weather inspires him to run.  
  
I must end now. Boromir has woken.  
  
Mellonlín,  
  
Arwing 


	34. I Write From Minas Tirith

I WRITE FROM MINAS TIRITH  
  
Dear Arwing,  
  
How good to hear my brother is improving! How I have missed my brother; how I haved worried!  
  
But you know, dear, though I received your letter yesterday and was very encouraged by it, I have now seen Boromir for myself. I have seen his strength returning and been so happy to look into his eyes and know they see me.  
  
We have arrived in Minas Tirith just this night. We went immediately to see Boromir, which is where Father still lingers, I believe. Mother was there, how good it is to see her again! It has been so long.  
  
I have yet to see my other siblings, for the younger ones were already sleeping. Where Barahir was I cannot imagine, for Mother says he has been faithful to watch his brother each evening. Perhaps, was he with you?  
  
How kind of you to sit up every night to watch Boromir. We are all very grateful.  
  
I should like to see your dress. It sounds very lovely. Of course, though, I am more excited to see you. I doubt I shall sleep at all tonight for the excitement of being here finally and the anticipation of so many reunions and meetings. But then, I hardly slept while we traveled the long road from the Greyfold, so perhaps my weariness will overpower my flutteryness.   
  
I look forward to meeting your brother. And your horse. I should have liked to show you mine, but I fear she is sorely lost now. But of all I might have lost that day my horse is nearly the least of my worries.  
  
I will soon settle Boromir's mind once and for all that Huinlas has no intention of marrying me. It is strange that he should think so after our conversation, but perhaps is he not quite himself yet? You met him for the first time after he was wounded, so I suppose you cannot know. When I saw him he did not speak, but only smiled. Altered though it is, it was so good to see his face again.  
  
It does seem strange to write you even though we will probably meet tomorrow. But I am so used to writing, I just thought I had to write. It has become habit. I quite enjoy writing you.  
  
We are staying in the palace, but I am sure you already know that. My room is in the western wing, and I have the loveliest view of the mountains and the sunset.  
  
Well, mellonlín, I must bid you good-night. Mother has come and says I must go to bed before I fall asleep writing. How I have missed my mother!  
  
Silwen 


	35. Babysitting Eldarion

Babysitting Eldarion  
  
Dear Silwen,  
  
I was going to write you a letter yesterday, thinking you were still out of the city. Then, however, I looked out the window of the house in which I am staying and saw a beautiful silver white horse walking towards the palace, with a tall blond haired elf upon his back. Then I saw a brown horse bearing two riders. I can only guess it was you and your father and Huinlas arriving in Minas Tirith. I was so excited to realize I had seen you, though it was only for a few seconds.  
  
I have just received your letter. How kind of you to write. I was going to write this letter earlier, but Eldarion and his friend wanted me to join in their little game. So now I shall finish.  
  
I am not in the palace right now, as I said. I am with Eldarion at his friend's house, who lives in the fourth level of the city. I don't know how long we will be here. I had planned to return home yesterday, but Eldarion wanted to spend the night. So here I am, not in the house that I should be in.  
  
No Barahir was not with me; I don't know where he is at the moment.   
  
You will most likely see my brother sooner than you will see me. His room is nearer the western side of the palace than mine. He also roams the palace many times each day. He likes to know who is here and who has been here just recently. He has also become a good friend with your younger siblings.   
  
I don't know if I shall see you tomorrow either. Who knows how long Eldarion will want to stay here at his friend's house. He has not been able to see his friend for a long time. Hopefully we shall not be here longer than tomorrow afternoon. However, Eldarion still wants to show his little friend his horse.  
  
I shall close. for I should like you to receive this before you fall asleep.   
  
Mellonlín  
  
Arwing  
  
In hopes of seeing you for the first time ever soon! 


	36. First Impressions

First Impressions  
  
Dear Arwing,  
  
How pleasant to send a letter and receive an answer the same day!  
  
It is strange for me to think you have seen me before I have seen you. Perhaps tonight at dinner I shall see you. If you return to the palace sooner I will most likely be with Boromir.  
  
I have spent much of the day today in the House of Healing with my brother, father, and mother. Théodwyn was here for a while, but I understand she has made some friends of her own and wishes to spend time with them more than the big sister she hasn't seen for more than five months. Ah, well.  
  
Boromir talked a little, and it was good to hear his voice again. I have missed it much, especially because I thought I had lost it forever.  
  
This city is enormous! I don't know how you find your way around. I can barely get from the palace to Boromir's room without getting lost. I am not used to streets and winding alleys, nor the tall buildings and white walls.  
  
I hope you are enjoying your stay with Eldarion and his friends. I cannot wait to meet him!  
  
Huinlas dislikes staying in the city, I can tell. The walls seem to trap him, he says.  
  
I would like to write more, but we shall probably meet tonight, and I would like something to talk about, instead of merely staring at one another and feeling awkward because we have already talked about everything. (Though I truly doubt a lack of talking will be a problem for me.)  
  
Until tonight!  
  
Silwen  
  
From the Authors   
  
Answer to Quiz #1: Choice B: DofE writes Arwing, VA writes Silwen. (You guys are too smart. g) Then VA edits them. Before posting DofE re-reads them, fixing any needed last-minute corrections.   
  
After posting this question, DofE pointed out to me that the answer was a dead give away: why in the world would Daughter of Elessar write the Daughter of Faramir letters???  
  
The Most Commonly Asked Question (MCAQ): "How did you think of these letters?"  
  
Our Answer to the MCAQ: Hmm. Well, DofE had a dream once about a daughter of Elessar (duh) named Arrewing who became friends with the son of Legolas named Lehunlas. Several months later VA wrote the first Silwen letter totally out of the blue for amusement and emailed it to DofE. Silwen's character developed rapidly, the story changed course a bit, we fixed the names to give them real elvish meanings, and viola! Seven Stars was born. All the letters were sent in email form between the authors, giving it a more real feeling because of the time lapse between letters. We seriously didn't think anyone would like them, but after barrowdowns.com changed its fan fiction VA started looking for another site to post her poetry. We found fanfiction.net and are so amazed and thrilled that you all like our story. Thanks!  
  
Replies to Reviews   
  
THANKS EVERYONE! It's awesome to hear from you. :)  
  
Huinlas: It's so great that you chose our name for your nickname! We're flattered. (Also thanks for mentioning its origin in your bio.) Yeah, guess it is kinda a girly story. g Glad you like it. Please keep reading and reviewing!   
  
Lotti: Wahoo! A new reviewer. Welcome to our story. :) Thanks for reviewing each chapter. It was so cool to get 34 emails in one day! You asked a question...let me find it... "Delio hi" is Sindarin for "hide here." Lotti...cool name.  
  
Beam-y: Yeah, you're right. It did sound sappy. You registered! Awesome! We love your name, btw. "Sewing...yuck." VA totally agrees. Sewing needles scare her. DofE: {wacks VA over head}  
  
Elanor Evenstar: More Huinlas? Patience! g Much to come... Since we've been commenting on everyone's names... We actually thought you were someone we know for a while, because she's always calling herself Arwen Undomiel Evenstar or Elanor. But alas, no. We checked your bio, and you're from California, right? Close, but no cigar. :)  
  
Athena: "Why does Boromir think that?" Umm... VA: {nudges DofE} Why DOES he think that??? DofE: Ow! VA: Did we forget to edit that? DofE: {shrugs} VA: Oh, I know. {grins} Because it leads up to a totally cool brother/sister conversation later on. {beams} DofE: {rolls eyes} Whatever...  
  
We like your name, too. :) 


	37. Twilight Conversation

Twilight Conversation  
  
Dear Silwen,  
  
Eldarion and I have arrived back in the palace. It is too late now to see you, and as I do not feel like myself our meeting may be delayed longer than tomorrow.  
  
Tonight, shortly after sunset, I was sitting on my balcony. Below me all was grey with early twilight and the birds were all singing farewell to each other. Then I saw my mother and father walking together in the courtyard. Perhaps I should have gone inside, but I didn't desire to do so. The air is so lovely that time of day; it makes me comfortable. So I stayed.  
  
I heard them talking. Their voices, though soft, were carried clearly to me on the gentle breeze. At first I tried not to overhear their conversation, but before I realized it I was listening intently. They were speaking of me.  
  
"Why would she appear different, Estel?" I heard my mother ask.  
  
"You have noticed no change in her behavior, no alteration in her appearance or conversation?" he asked.  
  
"None at all. Yet I have not looked for any."  
  
"Tiro," he said. "Look."  
  
Instinctively I looked, too. He held in his hand a small piece of paper. My mother leaned against his shoulder and read it. She seemed startled -- in her soft, elven way. She took it and stared at it intently for some time.  
  
She spoke again, this time lower. "Where did you find this?"  
  
"On the mantel at Evendim. It is Arwing's handwriting."  
  
I knew then it must be the poem Huinlas sent me. Remember, Silwen? I mailed a copy to you.  
  
"How does Arwing come to own such a verse?" she asked.  
  
"It is hard to say. Though I found a letter from her among the belongings of Faramir's daughter which gives an answer, though one which opens more questions. Arwing said she received a poem from Huinlas, Legolas's son."  
  
"I know who Huinlas is, meldalin. There is no need to specify. He was here long before you were born."  
  
"Did you know they were corresponding to one another?"  
  
"No, I did not."  
  
There was silence for a few minutes. Did I say silence? If you consider the volume of my heartbeat silence...  
  
"Do you know what this poem is, Estel?"  
  
"I have the framework of an idea."  
  
My mother began to chant in elvish. Here is a rough translation into the common tongue. Once she began to speak the words rang in my head and would not leave, even now I hear her voice forming each syllable.  
  
"Two shall bear the silver rings,  
  
Rings of shining mithril.  
  
Of the Eldar shall they be,  
  
The blood of elves shall flow through them.  
  
Both of the north, both of the south;  
  
Anor their heritage, Gondor their home.  
  
Of kingly lineage both,  
  
For who but kings can bear these burdens?  
  
Together guarding their land;  
  
Side by side governing from the shadows.  
  
Protecting from evil.  
  
The Valar shall be with them;  
  
Elbereth their hope, Manwe their guide.  
  
Hidden from the world;  
  
Disguised from the eyes of men.  
  
Invisible.  
  
Two lives forever bonded by bands  
  
Of silver.  
  
Seven stones set in a silver sea,  
  
Calling.  
  
And seven answering."  
  
"They speak in harmony, then?" asked my father.  
  
"The verses? Yes. They are one and the same."  
  
"How does Huinlas know of this?"  
  
Mother Arwen turned to face him, for as she chanted the lay her eyes had looked far away. "Is he not of the Eldar, as I am? Any elven child could repeat these verses if requested."  
  
"My children cannot."  
  
"Our children," she corrected.  
  
"Yes, vanimelda," he said.  
  
"Your children do not know the life of the Eldar. Why should they be troubled with that which is beyond their reach?"  
  
"Arwen!" he said, acting alarmed. "Our son could recite any lay or poem or ballad if once you told it to him."  
  
"But why should he sing of immortality's complications? He should not be expected --"  
  
Here Father hushed her. "We are straying from the topic at hand. You have made jest of it. Now tell me your true feelings, for mine are not so jovial."  
  
"Plainly?"  
  
"Impeccably so."  
  
"I believe Huinlas must have one of the rings, and he supposes Arwing possesses the other."  
  
"Impossible!"  
  
"How so?"  
  
He struggled for an answer. "My daughter shall not be subject to the bondage of a Ring!"  
  
"Calm yourself, Estel."  
  
"You would ask me to be calm?"  
  
"I have done so."  
  
With effort he regained his composure. "What shall be done?"  
  
"Nothing."  
  
He echoed her.  
  
"We can do nothing. We do not yet know for certain the validity of my assumptions."  
  
He nodded his head slowly.  
  
"We can only hope for the best," she said.  
  
"While there is yet hope," he answered.  
  
"There is always hope."  
  
Then they walked beyond hearing distance from my position.  
  
I have written to you so I may speak to another of these thoughts now surging through my mind. I feel so lost; indeed, I nearly feel ill.  
  
Mellonlín,  
  
Arwing   
  
Quiz #2  
  
What is the Elvish translation of the name Huinlas?  
  
A: royal/noble leaf  
  
B: brilliant/shining leaf  
  
C: dark/gloomy leaf  
  



	38. Of My Own Troubles

OF MY OWN TROUBLES  
  
Dear Arwing,  
  
It has been nearly two days since I received your letter and I have, as yet, heard nothing more from you or seen you. What I have heard concerning you is but that you are ill, and confined to your room. I hope this is not true, though your strange quietness and lack of interest to meet me can only help to prove to me this rumor correct.  
  
I am sorry you are not feeling yourself. I don't see why you should feel well, considering what you discovered the other day. But, as it happens, I have been having troubles of my own.  
  
These last few nights, the nights here in the city, I have started to sleep better and am more able to recall the happenings of the journey here. I remember while traveling, after Huinlas showed me his ring, that I was plagued with poor sleep and dreams of an unusual nature. Now, since coming here, I have had often the same dream, a terrible dream.  
  
First I saw a blackness, darker than any I have seen. Its very being was horrible, I felt sickened to look upon it. For it was alive. A darkness that could be felt, a darkness with substance and life of its own. I felt as if I were falling, falling, falling. Down forever and ever into this gaping mouth, this moria. And then, brighter than any light of the sun, a star pierced though the black wall. First one, then another, and another, and so on until seven stars, each brighter than the brightest sunrise, and each more piercing, were displayed in an arc above my head. Seven eyes, staring, gnawing, breaking. I tried to turn away, I tried to escape their terrible brightness, but I could not. Even the dark was shrinking away from their light. I tried to close my eyes. I succeeded. But still I could see the stars. Now brighter than ever before. And then I heard a voice, no, two voices, saying, "Seven stars and two silver bands. Seven stones and two mighty hands. Seven gems and one guarded land." And then I felt the stars searching, calling, pulling, tearing me. Then I heard a voice crying, "Where!" And another broke through yelling, "You know!"  
  
And there I always awake.  
  
It is a horrible dream, as you can see. I have had it most often now that I am here in Minas Tirith, sometimes several times a night. I am almost afraid to go to bed. Or I had been.  
  
Yesterday I decided to tell my dream to Huinlas. I thought perhaps, since he is the ring's keeper he could tell me the meaning of the dream.  
  
It took me a while to find him, for no one knew where he had gone. At last I found him on a deserted alley walking absently and alone.   
  
"Huinlas!" I called.  
  
He turned hastily.  
  
"Silwen?"  
  
I hurried over to him.  
  
"Silwen? Where are you wandering to, so late? Twilight has already fallen."  
  
"Yes, I know. I had to find you. I had to ask you something. Tell you something."   
  
And then I continued to relate to him my dream. As I spoke he looked troubled. At first he looked at me, but then it seemed that he looked beyond me. He was staring into my eyes, but I am sure he did not see them. And the more he looked this way the more I tried to look into his eyes to catch his attention. The more I looked, the more I became aware that something was not right. My sense of hearing became blurred, and I could not even hear my own voice. Then my vision started to give out, all I saw were Huinlas's eyes. And then in his eyes I saw, oh Arwing! The stars, the stars were in Huinlas's eyes! And now I could not look away, his gaze, strange as it was, held me and I had no power at all. My legs started to shake and I was about to fall, when I heard the voice again. This time it was louder, and it seemed to be Huinlas's voice. It shouted, "Where? You know!" Then all went black.  
  
When my eyes opened I was breathing hard. I knew I was not supporting myself. I looked up. There was Huinlas, looking intently at me. He had caught me in my faint.  
  
He called my name, and his voice sounded at once both gentle and commanding. It felt as though he was calling me back from a distance far away, or perhaps under water.  
  
"Silwen!"  
  
Louder came his voice, and more commanding.  
  
"Silwen?"   
  
Now it sounded like the voice I knew. The voice of the friend I knew, the familiar voice belonging to Huinlas.  
  
I pulled my hands to my face and began weeping like a little child.  
  
"It has gone, Silwen. All is well now."  
  
I continued crying.  
  
"Be calm, Silwen. Fear not, all is well."  
  
I breathed.  
  
"Oh, Huinlas! What is it?"  
  
"Worry not. It shall never trouble you again."  
  
"Does it often trouble you?"  
  
Silence.  
  
"Huinlas?"  
  
"Worry not, I say. You shall not have to bear this burden again. Trust me."  
  
He let go of me gently, to see if I could stand on my own. I could, so he walked with me back to the palace.  
  
Since then I have been pondering over this nearly all the time. He said he will explain it to me some day. I asked if he could explain soon, but he was not sure. You know elves.  
  
I have been trying to figure everything out, but it will not figure. Seven stars.like the seven stars in the poems of you last letter. I don't understand.  
  
Here I must close. Yet I remain,  
  
Mellonlín Silwen  
  
Anwer to Quiz #2  
  
The question was:  
  
What is the Elvish translation of the name Huinlas?  
  
The answers were:  
  
A: royal/noble leaf  
  
B: brilliant/shining leaf  
  
C: dark/gloomy leaf  
  
The correct answer is:  
  
Choice C. "Huin" means dark or gloomy, and "las" means leaf.  
  
The other answers take the roots of Arwing and Silwen's names. "Ar" or "Ara," as in Aragorn or Arwen, means "royal/ noble." "Sil," as in silmaril, means brilliant. The translation of Arwing's name is "royal/noble sea spray" and Silwen means "brilliant/shining/sparkling maiden."  
  



	39. Thinking Not of Much, Wishing For More

Thinking Not of Much, Wishing for More  
  
Dear Silwen,  
  
I enjoyed meeting you yesterday. What fun we did have! I have yet to show you my horse and my room. I am writing this from my bed thinking of the things I have yet to show you.  
  
You must still help me to name Tinw's kitten's. They are so big and sleek now. You must come to my room soon so I can show them to you.  
  
In the last letter I received from you, you spoke of a dream. It did not sound like a nice dream. It is good to hear you no longer are plagued by it.  
  
I hope you are finding your stay in the city pleasant. Though I know the city is perhaps not the same as the country and the open lands, I do hope you are finding it a nice diversion.  
  
As I mentioned yesterday at dinner to you I am feeling better. I feel more normal, though I still am disquieted by the memory of that evening on the balcony...  
  
Mellonlín,   
  
Arwing  
  
PS I hope that we will be able to see each other again as soon as possible.. 


	40. Thank You for the Note

THANKS FOR YOUR NOTE  
  
Dear Arwing,  
  
Thanks for the little note you sent me. I was nice to finally meet you. Very exhilarating -- for me at least. I would be delighted to see your kittens and your horse.   
  
Undoubtably you saw Huinlas also, although I must say he was not acting himself at all. I have never seen him so quiet and absent before, especially at a gathering like last night. So many people; so much talking and laughter. It was like a grand reunion, except that I was meeting everyone for the first time. Not really a reunion then, I guess.  
  
I so enjoyed the feast and lively company last night. We shall have to assemble everyone again and have a dance. I love to dance, do you? I learned much from my father and mother, and Huinlas even taught me a few elven dances. They are very beautiful and make one feel very light and lovely while one is dancing.  
  
I had a wonderful time chatting with Eldarion last night. He is such a character! (I mean that kindly.) So regal and impressive in his manner. He had to show me everything and introduce me to everyone, which I found quite charming. Since then he has been often running to find me, asking if I might play with him. I have been to see his horse . . . three times.  
  
Yes, thankfully, Huinlas was truthful and the dream has not returned. I don't know how he could have power over my dreams, but I am thankful for it this once. At other times and under different circumstances I should find it rather suspicious and prying. I mean to ask him about it, but it seems he has been very busy talking with Father and the king, as well as wandering around alone much.  
  
Except for my runs with Eldarion to the horse stable, I have spent the day by Boromir's side. How slowly he improves! Today he seemed very worn and tired. His face looked even a little paler than it did yesterday, but perhaps I am mistaken. He looks so grave, and hardly says a word. Yet he did tell me he was glad I came to visit him; he told me he is very lonely. Of course when I found this out I felt miserable for having devoted so much of my time elsewhere these past few days. Since we are only staying in the city for his health to improve I might as well remain with him if it might help him to heal more quickly. I hope every little thing will be a benefit, and I do so greatly desire to see him well again.  
  
So, Arwing, I must close now. It appears Boromir desires to talk again, and as that happens seldom there is reason to pay attention.  
  
Mellonlín,  
  
Silwen 


	41. I Have a Grand Idea

I HAVE A GRAND IDEA  
  
Dear Silwen,  
  
I would like you to come to my room as soon as you are able.   
  
I would like to talk to you about planning a grand dancing fest next week. There shall be food, dancing, music, and many people. It is to be a glorious occasion. We can teach each other the dances that we know.  
  
We can make it possible for Boromir to come down to the dancing hall. I know of a way that he can be there, if he feels well enough to stay in the dancing hall and watch us dance.   
  
I doubt that you have seen the dancing hall yet. Eldarion doesn't know where it is, so he could not have taken you to see it. It is a grand room. Wonderful for dancing, there is even a place for music players and food tables, as well as chairs for sitting in when you get to tired from dancing.  
  
From your room you will need to go down the main hallway, from there you will find that you will be passing three smaller halls as well as a few rooms. Near the far window, turn left, there will be a small hallway that goes not far. This is the Mountain Hallway. The door on the right leads to my room.  
  
Mellonlín,  
  
Arwing 


	42. I Fear for Him

I Fear for Him  
  
Dearest Arwing,  
  
What a lovely room you have. I had so much fun looking at everything, and especially the view you have outside the window. All the tapestries, wood carving on the furniture, and the fantastic canopy on your bed. Oh, it is very nice.  
  
Your kittens are unbelievably sweet!  
  
The dancing party sounds wonderful. I don't know if Boromir will be able to attend, but there is always hope.  
  
Boromir is no better than before. He is in great pain and talking, even breathing, is a struggle for him. I am worried for him, Arwing.  
  
But despite his troubles, Boromir did manage to carry on a conversation with me last evening. The sun was setting into the west, and a glow of pink filled the room.  
  
"Silwen?" he said.  
  
I looked up, surprised. It makes me sad when he has difficulty recognizing me.  
  
"Yes, it is me," I said. I helped him to prop his head up on a pillow.  
  
He cringed.  
  
"Are you alright?" I asked hurriedly.  
  
"I will be alright in a minute," he said.  
  
I waited.  
  
"How do you fare, sister?" he asked presently.  
  
I was somewhat taken aback.  
  
"Well, brother," I responded.  
  
"Do you see Huinlas often?" he asked. His face was troubled.  
  
"Ah. I know what is bothering you. You needn't worry."  
  
"Don't I?"  
  
"Boromir, really! Think of me married! Am I not a bit young and frivolous? As of now, I have neither the care nor the patience for such a situation."  
  
I thought he would laugh. He used to laugh when I talked thus. He used to laugh so often. Long ago and far away those days seem now.  
  
No smile crossed his face, instead a shadow seemed to fall.  
  
"Look at me."  
  
I complied.  
  
He held my gaze a minute or so.  
  
"Do you still not trust me?" I asked gently.  
  
"I have always trusted you."  
  
He sank back into the bed.  
  
"But I have always been one to worry, as well," he muttered.  
  
"You have no need for worry of any sort, my brother."  
  
"At present," he responded.  
  
"No, Boromir. I have told you before I could never think of Huinlas as anything more than a friend. Friendship is great, and I desire nothing which would lessen it, nor anything that would cause it to change from what it is now."  
  
"Will you promise this?"  
  
"I will," I said, now thoroughly perplexed.  
  
A tense silence followed.  
  
I broke it timidly.  
  
"Why does this bother you so?"  
  
"Has Huinlas not told you?"  
  
"No," I said, surprised.  
  
"That is indeed odd."  
  
His gaze turned far away, out the window. The last flicker of light was clinging to the mountain peaks.  
  
"You should ask him of it," he said at last.  
  
I laughed.  
  
"Me? Bring up such a subject? Have you gone mad?"  
  
"No. I am sorry. I did not mean exactly that. Find your answer by asking him a related question."  
  
"Such as?"  
  
"Ask him of himself," he said. "He has much to tell."  
  
"Why cannot you tell me? You appear to know much."  
  
"It is not for me to tell."  
  
"But it is for you to worry? It is for you to trouble your wounded and weary self with questions that have already been answered? Boromir, I--"  
  
"Please do not speak so!" he interrupted.  
  
I was silent.  
  
His face went deadly pale and it seemed as though even the mention of his injury brought back all his pain in a hurry. I did all I could to ease him.  
  
We did not speak again that evening.  
  
I have yet to talk to Huinlas about the matter. I would like to know what all the fuss is about, and why it troubles Boromir so greatly. But, still, I am more anxious about Boromir's health, for he does not improve at a desirable rate. Oh, Arwing! I fear for him.  
  
Silwen 


	43. Mother's Wisdom

Mother's Wisdom  
  
Dear Arwing,  
Yesterday I was walking alone on the balcony of the house of healing. A slight breeze was blowing, tossing my hair every which way I did not want it to go. I was frustrated about Boromir, and frustrated about being stuck here in this city. Grand as it is, I long to be home. Home under the tall trees, home with the elves, home with Boromir safe, home with life just as it used to be. And I was frustrated because I knew deep inside that I cannot have that life back just as it was then. Change has come.  
I heard footsteps behind me. I turned my head around slowly and carelessly.  
It was my mother.  
"Silwen, why do you wander alone? Your brother woke and has been asking for you."  
I looked at her and could not find an answer.  
She walked up beside me, brushing the hair out of my face.  
"Have you noticed the sunset, dearest? It is very lovely tonight."  
I looked, but again could think of nothing to say. I sighed. She spoke for me.  
"You are very much affected by Boromir. I see it."  
The wind blew in gusts.  
"It is hard; yes, I know. Especially for you, who are so close to him," she said.  
"Especially for me? Mother, he is your son. I thought it was more difficult for you."  
"It is different for me, if that is what you mean. Yes, that is true. But your pain and mine differ much in ways that should not be."  
"What do you mean?"  
"You fear for him, truly, sincerely, hourly. You fear that in a minute he will be gone and then you will be with him no more. Do you not?"  
A tear rolled down my face.  
"You do not need to be in such agony hour after hour and day after day."  
"Why? Do you know he will be well again?" I asked.  
She sighed.  
"No. But I have resigned myself to whatever will happen."  
I looked at her in disbelief.  
She continued, "We have had Boromir's presence for many years now, have we not? If he dies we will still have the memories of those days to keep forever. When we too pass from this world we will meet again, and be together always where there is more than memory. We cannot by wishing add one day to our lives, nor can we by longing add one to the lives of those whom we love."  
"But--"  
"You are passionate, my Silwen. You cannot live without being either at one peak of your emotions of the other. Life is so alive for you. Believe me, if your life was not what you felt it should be, you would be just as passionate about leaving it. You are like me, my daughter."  
"Yet I have never seen you as you now speak of me."  
"I have learned patience through impatience, and composure through rash actions. I have learned the meaning of hope through experiencing hopelessness. Now you are learning the meaning of trust as you sit helplessly by your brother each day with no ability to heal him."  
"What else can I do?"  
"You can accept life as it is given you, just as Boromir is learning to accept the life that he has been given. He has been as much frightened about leaving life as you are yet frightened for him to leave yours. But he is learning to accept, learning to appreciate every moment, the good and the bad. And I think, if he is called away, he will now be able to leave without misgivings, without regrets, and without despair."  
"Oh, Mother."  
I fell against her shoulder, and she held me in her arms. The wind continued to blow and the sun sank lower and lower, until the last wisp of light faded and was gone.  
I have much to think on these things. I thought you would be interested to know them, so I have written you this letter. I hope you will in future be as open as I have been.  
-Silwen  
  
a/n: Sorry it's been sooO way long since I've updated! wow... It's been since like what? June? Oops! I'll do my best not to let that happen again! I was just so busy this last summer, and now with school, and working I'm not sure how often I'll be able to post, but I'll do my best to update at least once every few weeks. :) --DofE 


	44. Keeping Things That Should Wait

KEEPING THINGS THAT SHOULD WAIT  
Dear Silwen,  
  
The other night while I was thinking of when you wrote of Huinlas showing you his ring. While my thoughts were on thus my eyes came fixed upon my fathers sword, for I was looking about my room.  
  
I had no control of myself. I could not take my eyes away. My body was no longer in my power. I was being taken over by a force that I cannot say how much power it had, for it was of great power.  
  
Without realizing where I was, I suddenly found myself in a passage way that I have never been in before. Suddenly I came to have a great pain on my finger on my right hand.  
  
I heard a voice saying: Tindomerel, hire i man ron wanwa.  
  
I have never had such pain as I did then, not even when I sprained my ankle. Nor had I heard the voice, or that which the voice was saying, though I knew what it said. My finger was throbbing, and my body seemed to be taken by that great power or force that I could not stop. I was nearly taken by the pain and the force against me.  
  
I found the strength enough to look up, for I had fallen. There was a bright silver light. It was coming from another hall a little farther down the passage way. I had to make myself walk, for the pain was starting to take over my entire self.  
  
After much struggling I was able to make my way to the hall opening. There at the far corner of the hall was the silver light. I went toward the light. It took me some time to get there, for the hall was of a great size, and I was in much agony. I reached the far corner after much time. I could not tell as to what the light was yet it seemed to light up the entire hall.  
  
I looked closer at the light, while I did this another voice called out. Then the light over took me. The voice was saying: Sinome kea i man ron wanwa.  
  
The pain, the force that evil force that was against me was gone. Then I was back in my room sitting on my bed looking at Angiel.  
  
Here I am, still in my room pondering what I saw and heard, while I write to you. Your letter has just come.  
  
Dearest Silwen, do not think that I keep things from you because I do not want you to know them. I keep things that you shall learn in time, and those things which you would not now understand. Not that you should not want to understand, but that your knowledge as of the recent times would not allow you to know. You were wrong to say that I should not mention them, for then, I might never mention them and you would never know or understand things in times to come.  
  
I know what it is your mother speaks of. Do not you know? If so, ask, I shall gladly tell you, for it is a very wonderful story.  
  
If ever you doubt, Silwen, ask and the answer will come to you. Wether it be right away, or several years in coming. Do not fear to ask.  
  
Mellonlín,  
  
Arwing  
  
A/N I didn't know what else to write... sorry, I'd say it's rather repetive of what just happened to Silwen, but oh well.  
  
Don't forget to drop a review! :) 


	45. Of a Conversation Between Hunilas and My...

OF A CONVERSATION BETWEEN HUINLAS AND MYSELF Dear Arwing,  
I do apologize for the length of time that has passed in the interim between your last letter and my response. I received your letter three days ago, and after speaking with you at the banquet two nights ago, and riding with you yesterday, I didn't feel I had anything to write. But now, once again I have things to say.  
It sounds like you've been having a time of it lately! What a horrible dream! It was a dream, wasn't it? Or was it more like when I was looking at Huinlas and -- oh. Never mind. I don't want to think about that.  
Yes, I know of what my mother speaks. I am her daughter, after all. The deeds of the War of the Ring were great, and many were valiant in the pursuit of victory. My parents were but two of many, and it may be the parts they played will swiftly be forgotten in the generations of peace that follow. Though, dear, I really hope not, for I am rather proud of them. (Am I a bit biased, perhaps)  
As it happens, I have a tale for you which you might be interested to hear.  
Last night, after we had finished our ride (which was lovely, I must add) and you had gone to begin your vigil by Boromir's side, I began walking back to the palace. I walked slowly, for the stars were quite bright and especially beautiful. The city was quiet, for it was an hour or two past sunset.  
Then, out of the silence, I heard someone calling my name. I looked around slowly, wondering who it could possibly be.  
Out of the corner of my eye I caught the shimmer of elven clothing and recognized Huinlas almost dancing down the street towards me. He had a smile on his face.  
"Silwen, here you are," he said, stopping just in front of me and taking both my hands.  
I stared at him in surprise.  
He laughed. "I have been looking for you everywhere."  
"I have only just left the stables. Arwing and I were riding together," I replied.  
At the mention of your name his face became serious. "So late?"  
"It wasn't late when we left," I answered, as if I had an excuse.  
"Ah. I suppose it is of no consequence," he said, trying to look at ease.  
There was an awkward silence.  
We stood without moving, my hands still in his, until I became a bit figity and tried to remove my hands. This succeeded in nothing except to revive Huinlas.  
"I would like to talk with you, Silwen. May I?"  
"Of course," I answered.  
He turned and started walking. I had to walk beside him, for he still held my right hand.  
"I would like to apologize for leaving you without an answer for so long," he began.  
"Without an answer?"  
"Yes, I had promised to explain why I wished to take you to Mirkwood, and as of yet I have not fulfilled that promise."  
If it has gone this long it is probably of little significance, I thought to myself.  
"Pardon?" asked Huinlas.  
I eyed him with disbelief and suspicion. "I have said nothing."  
Huinlas almost looked embarrassed.  
"Boromir has asked me to tell you," he continued warily.  
"Boromir?" I said.  
"Yes, Boromir. I told him before I left, but I couldn't tell you."  
"Why not?" I asked jealously.  
"Patience, Silwen. The time was not right. Now I may tell you."  
I looked away. "Go on."  
"I showed you my ring on the Greenway, did I not?"  
"You did," I answered. The mention of it sent a shiver down my back.  
Huinlas noticed.  
"Your character is not one which is faint of heart, Silwen. Do not become so as I speak to you."  
I did not know how answer.  
"I went to Mirkwood to discover the answer to a question. A question which has been haunting me since the day I received the ring."  
"When was that?" I asked.  
He smiled. "Many years ago, by your count."  
"Where did you get it from?"  
"It was a gift, an heirloom. It was passed from parent to child for many thousands of years."  
"So your father gave it to you?"  
"No, my mother. She is by lineage of the Noldor, kin of the Lady Galadriel."  
"I did not know you had relatives in Lorien!"  
"Of old I did. But now the mellyrn trees sway silently in the wind, and the niphredil bloom unheeded. The ring bearers were the last to leave Lothlorien, and now none remain."  
"And your mother?"  
"She lives in Mirkwood. It was to her I had to go for my answer. She knows the lore of the Two rings, for it closely concerns her."  
"Oh, I love tales. Please tell me where the rings are from," I pleaded.  
Huinlas smiled. "Long ago the Noldor were a people greatly skilled in the forging of rings and the work of stone and metal. Of them were the Silmarils were made, and the three rings of power for the protection and enrichment of Middle-earth. They also made, in secret, two other rings. For it was foreshadowed there would come a time when even the rule of the Three would come to an end. In preparation for this time they forged the Two rings, the Rings of Seven Stars. They were long kept in secret, and few heard of their existence save only those who were their keepers. Never were they worn, for the power in them was reserved for the two bearers who were yet to come. Do you follow me?" We stopped walking. We had reached the gate for the fifth level. Huinlas looked at me.  
"I believe so. But, you wear the ring. You must be the one foretold."  
"One of the two."  
"Of course," I said.  
Huinlas lead the way through the pass door to the fourth level. We continued down the broad, empty street.  
"What are the rings for?" I asked.  
"For the protection and guidance of Middle-earth and those who in it live. They are akin to the Three rings, save with greater power."  
He paused.  
"What kind of power?" I asked.  
"Power to heal hurts and ward against evil. Power to give wisdom and cause a desire for knowledge."  
"Huinlas! Oh, Huinlas!" I shouted. "That means you can heal Boromir! Come we must go, now! Back to Boromir! Come, come! Why do you stop me?"  
He held my hand firmly and would not let go. I stood looking wildly at him, not knowing what to think.  
"Why do you hold me back? Why do you not follow?" I asked in a quivering voice. "Boromir could be dying, even now."  
His face was deeply troubled. "Silwen," he began.  
"No!" I shouted. "Don't try to calm me, I will not be calm. I do not see why you halt, why you stall for time that may not wait."  
"There are two rings, Silwen. Two. There is significance in this, Silwen."  
"I don't see any," I pouted.  
"There are two rings; they have power only when united in common purpose."  
"Oh," was all I could manage to say. I turned around, crossed my arms and wrapped them around my neck. Hope had been so bright for that one second, and now it was crushed to nothing. Nothing.  
I heard Huinlas walking up behind me. His footsteps were soft and slow. He took my hand and turned me around.  
I did not look up.  
"Where is the other ring?" I asked, looking at his hands. "Who carries it?"  
"I do not know."  
"How could you not know?" I asked, amazed.  
"The second ring was lost."  
"Lost? Is this the question that has been troubling you for so long?" "It is," he replied.  
"But how will you find it?" I asked.  
Huinlas started to chant a poem, softly and rhythmically,  
"Seven stars set in a silver sea,  
and seven awakening.  
Seven stars set in a silver sea,  
and seven beckoning.  
Seven stars set in a silver sea,  
and seven answering."  
He ended. I stood still, entranced. A cool breeze rippled through my hair and tossed my skirt.  
"I have heard that before." I whispered.  
"Have you?" he asked, looking at me intently.  
"Yes, or something similar."  
His gaze intensified. "Where?" His voice sounded commanding, not like the Huinlas I was accustomed to. It reminded me of the voice in my nightmare.  
"I don't know. I don't remember." I stuttered.  
"Think!" he told me.  
I tried. I thought and thought until I was sure I had become mad.  
Then it came to me.  
"Arwing. It was in Arwing's poem. The poem she said you sent her. The poem the king took. Yes, it was in that poem."  
It felt as if a great weight was lifted from me. I felt as if I had been holding my breath and now I could breathe freely again.  
"Arwing sent it to you?" he asked. His voice was deep and strange. I felt as if I was facing an enemy.  
"Huinlas, you frighten me!" I said, stepping away from him and taking my hand.  
He put his hand on his forehead. His brow became furrowed, and the horrible questioning look returned to his eyes.  
"Arwing," I heard him whisper.  
"Huinlas, what is all this about? How is Arwing concerned with this?"  
He seemed to forcefully push away the expression, and his eyes melted back to their deep blue.  
"If only I knew," he answered.  
And that, my friend, was the end of the conversation. I wish I had more to tell, but I have told all I know. It is so strange.  
Mellonlín,  
a very confused and tired Silwen 


End file.
